


Sound of Silence Fanfic

by AJuneRose



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 108,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24875308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJuneRose/pseuds/AJuneRose
Summary: This will be a day to day account of the healing process for Meredith after being attacked by Lou and how Alex is there to help her through it. MerLex is endgame! Everything else is canon. Lots of angst, PTSD, slow burn romance, possibly some suicidal thoughts for Mer, language and later sex. Rated T for now and possibly MA later. This is a prequel to I'm Here.
Relationships: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson, Meredith Grey/Alex Karev
Comments: 28
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

Grey. 911"

Just one beep of his pager, and without warning those seven characters brought Alex Karev's entire world skidding to a stop. He was in surgery, working with Robbins when the page came through, and some blonde intern that he didn't recognize- Cross, he had heard Arizona call him- read the message at his request. A cold jolt of fear shot through Alex's chest like a shock of electricity, but still he tried to rationalize it away.

"What? Mer?" He scoffed, confused; desperately trying to reassure himself that nothing too terrible could have possibly happened in the last hour. It was barely 9 am, and he had carpooled with Meredith at 8. She had beaten him to the hospital because she had gotten a lights and sirens escort and he'd had to stay with her gridlocked car, but he knew that she had gotten there safely because he had pulled her Lexus up outside the building just in time to see her jump out of the back of a rig with a patient and rush inside to run the trauma. Surgery abandoned for the moment, Alex set down his scalpel and turned his full attention to Cross, brows furrowing in confusion as he asked for clarification.

"Meredith Grey?" He repeated slowly, frowning when Cross nodded timidly. "What, like her patient? An emergency consult?"

"I- I don't know, Dr. Karev." The intern stammered nervously, uncomfortable with the growing tension he could feel suddenly thickening the air in the OR. "It.. just says Grey 911." While he was still speaking, the pager in his hand vibrated again and Cross glanced up from reading the message to find every person in the room staring at him expectantly. He could feel beads of anxious sweat forming on his forehead when he saw how pale Dr. Karev's face had gone behind his surgical mask, but he did his best to keep his voice level when he relayed the new message. "Trauma 3."

Even though the sum of both pages was only 4 ambiguous words, Alex felt the muscles in his jaw twitch involuntarily and he realized he was grinding his teeth, trying to keep his expression neutral and suppress the wave of panic that was rapidly rising in his chest. He knew must not have done a good enough job though, because he felt the weight of Arizona's worried stare on the back of his neck. When he whirled to face her, she read the tension in his shoulders and quickly murmured an assent to the question she knew he was going to ask. "Just go." She confirmed, her voice low and concerned. "We're fine. I can finish up here."

She must have felt it too, Alex thought as he nodded voicelessly in thanks and stumbled through the doors to the scrub room, tearing off his gown and mask and gloves as he went- the dread. The unignorable fear that though he tried to be rational, compelled him to rush through his scrub as quickly as was sanitary and move toward trauma three at a jog.

He knew it was bad immediately, when he sprinted around the final corner and saw Jo stationed outside the room as if she was guarding the door. Her tear filled eyes reflected the wild panic in his own gaze, and when she stifled a sob, he felt the knot of dread in his stomach tighten.

"Alex, wait-" She choked out when he reached past her for the doorknob. Shakily, she swiped for his arm, trying- he thought distantly- to slow him down; maybe wanting to prepare him for what he was about to see. But he couldn't wait; he brushed past Jo, barely feeling her fingers grasping ineffectually at the sleeve of his scrubs as he burst through the door of the trauma room, and in the end it made no difference. Because nothing could have prepared him for the nightmarish scene unfolding before him.

When his frantically searching eyes found Meredith's naked, bloodied body lying motionless on a gurney in the center of the crowded room, limbs splayed out at odd angles while a team of doctors- friends- ran a trauma protocol, the floor seemed to drop out from under him. As his knees threatened to buckle, he threw out one arm, clutching at the door frame for support. Reality merged with memory for one painful, visceral, moment and images that he thought he had blocked out came rushing back into his mind; memories of the last time he had seen Mer this lifeless, on that cloudy October day that Shepherd had pulled her dead, cold body from the choppy waters of the Puget Sound. For what felt like a torturous eternity, Alex was trapped in that moment from 20 years ago, and all he could see were her blue lips and all he could hear was the screaming of the flatline from her heart monitor. The past surrounded him, clouding his vision and ringing in his ears, keeping him frozen on the threshold of the room until Hunt's rough voice cut sharply through the haze.

"Karev." He was asking. "Can you handle this?" Not trusting his voice enough to respond, Alex swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and nodded wordlessly, returning the pitying looks he received from Kepner and Webber with a wild eyed stare of panic. Adrenaline suddenly kicked in then, and he exhaled shakily at the merciful energy he felt running through his veins. The fight or flight hormones afforded him the mental clarity he needed to remember his medical training and he briefly glanced at all of Meredith's monitors, gaining a quick snapshot of the severity of her condition. It didn't look good; her oxygen levels were steadily dropping, and her blood pressure was far too low.

Jaw working as he fought back tears of anger and helplessness, Alex forced his leaden feet to move, to carry him haltingly across the floor to stand by Meredith's head. Careful to stay out of the way of the fevered activity of the room, he ran a trembling hand over her bloody hair and struggled to keep his breathing steady and even. The voices of the others swirled around him, but they sounded so far away that he only caught fragments of their shouted words.

"Her vein's collapsed." "I can't get in." "Run a central line!"

Suddenly desperate for something, anything, to channel his helpless anger into, Alex heard himself volunteering, "I got it."

His voice sounded unsteady to his own ears, and he half expected Webber to order him out to the waiting room with the other grieving family members. But to his surprise, Richard simply nodded, and Alex felt a warm surge of gratitude to the old man for not even mentioning the hospital's policy against working on family. Everyone in that damn room was Meredith's family anyway, he thought fiercely, and another rush of emotion overwhelmed him. He was securing her I.V. lock blindly, unable to see through the veil of unshed tears that obscured his vision, his fingers relying on sheer muscle memory to complete their task when he heard Kepner announce, with audible relief, "She's back!"

Alex felt his stomach plummet through his feet with anxiety and noticed his hands begin to tremble, but somehow he managed to contain his eagerness long enough to get the saline drip started before returning to his post at the end of the gurney. He positioned himself behind Meredith's head once again, letting his hands gingerly cup her face in what he hoped was a steadying caress despite their shaking.

Her neck was immobilized by the c spine brace she wore, but her eyes- wide with panic and disoriented terror- darted frantically around the room. The sight of her fear made him sick to his stomach, and he moved his hands to gently squeeze her shoulders, leaning forward into her line of vision so she could see his face. He tried to smile reassuringly when her gaze found his, but the sheer depth of pain and panic that he saw there nearly wrecked him; his face wouldn't seem to obey his brain's commands, and the most he could manage was an upward twitch of his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"It's ok, Mer." He breathed, pressing a reverent kiss onto her forehead and whispering words of comfort against her clammy skin. "I know. I know. I'm right here."

The others paused what they were doing as well, speaking up one by one to reassure Meredith that they had her and inform her of what they were doing, but she didn't respond; her eyes still darted around the room, empty and confused. Through the roaring that suddenly muffled his hearing, Alex dimly heard Stephanie urge Meredith to wiggle her fingers or toes, and when he didn't see any answering motion, he glanced up in fear.

"Come on, Mer." He pleaded, the words catching in his throat, coming out as a broken whisper. "Please."

There was still no movement, and Alex gripped Meredith's shoulders a bit more tightly, this time to anchor himself rather than her, as the entire room began to spin.

"…neurodeficits?" he thought he heard someone ask over the pounding of his heartbeat in his temples.

"No, it doesn't make sense." He heard himself snap in response, his voice angry and desperate as he rejected the chilling suggestion. "She responded to the painful stimuli!"

One hand flew up to cover his mouth when he finished speaking, holding back the bile that suddenly burned in his throat, and it left a smear of Meredith's blood, sticky and warm, when he pulled it away. He stared at his scarlet- stained fingers in shock for a moment before glancing down to see where she was injured, and realized that the blood was coming from her ears, dripping down across his fingers as they cradled her face.

"You guys," Alex choked out, simultaneously horrified by this new revelation and relieved by the possibility of no deficits. "I... I don't think she can hear us."

Stunned silence stilled the room for the space of a breath, and then he heard Jackson mutter "Are you sure?" as he grabbed an otoscope to examine her eardrums. A few moments later, he confirmed Alex's suspicion with the grim pronouncement, "Barotrauma. Both eardrums. There's no way she has any hearing right now."

There was no time to process the concerning discovery however, before the shrill shrieking of Meredith's oxygen monitor pierced through the commotion of the room, and Alex found himself staring down in paralyzed horror at her tiny body beginning to seize beneath his grasp, her eyes rolling white back into her head.

"She's suffocating!" He barked, and witnessing her pain, suddenly he was too. The walls of the room seemed to close in on him when he heard Owen shout,

"Her lung is collapsing! We need to get her intubated now!" but he couldn't move until Jackson shoved him roughly out of the way, sending him stumbling backward into the window as he straddled the gurney to pop Meredith's jaw back open.

The scream that she released before blacking out from unbearable pain was raw and guttural and excruciating; Alex felt like it had been torn right out of his own gut. It wrecked him like nothing else in his life ever had, and he wished he could take it for her: all the pain and the trauma.

He hated feeling this way: so freaking powerless to help her, to protect her… His stomach heaved with urgent nausea and he lunged for a biohazard disposal bin in the corner, clutching the cool plastic sides and retching again and again until he felt empty and shaky and lightheaded. He was only dimly aware of the rumble of gurney wheels and a sudden gust of air as Hunt and Webber rushed an unconscious Meredith past him to emergency surgery, and when he tried to stand and follow them, black spots swam dizzily in front of his eyes. He felt the world tilting as he pitched slowly forward, bracing himself for the fall, but instead of unforgiving tile he felt kind hands firmly grabbing his shoulders, guiding him into a seated position against the wall and holding his head down between his knees. It was Robbins; he could smell her perfume and hear her telling him to stay down, coaching him to breathe.

"All right. Deep breaths, Alex, ok?" She was murmuring softly at him, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades like he was a small child, one of her patients. "You're doing great. Just breathe. Breathe with me."

She sounded calm and reassuring, and he tried to focus on her voice, and on slowing his ragged breathing to match hers. Eventually, the world stopped spinning and he wearily lifted his head to rest against the wall. He could feel Robbins' concerned gaze searching his face even without opening his eyes, but he was too far gone to care how weak he looked right now, or what she must think of him.

"If she doesn't make it through, I…" His mumbled confession stuck in his throat, and he exhaled heavily before trying again to put the unthinkable into words. "I've already lost her once." He breathed into the silence. 'I can't ever lose her again."

After a moment, he worked up enough courage to open his eyes and meet Arizona's gaze, braced to see judgement or disdain there in response to his raw vulnerability. But his friend's face was as worried as his own and her stare held only knowing sorrow. She didn't say anything, but Alex didn't need words. All he needed was for Meredith to make it off of that operating table.


	2. chapter 2

Chapter 2

Six hours, Alex thought numbly. It had been six hours since they had taken Mer into surgery, and six hours since he had moved from his spot on the hallway floor. A steady stream of busy people flowed around him, coming and going, answering pages and rushing to respond to other incoming traumas but he barely noticed. He felt strange and untethered, unable to focus on anything but the ticking of the clock on the opposite wall and unable to see anything but Meredith- naked and lifeless and bloody, coding on the OR table. His friends had come to sit with him, one by one; Jackson, April, Maggie. But no one had asked him to move yet, and he was grateful; he doubted his legs would support him if he tried to stand. He thought detachedly that he was probably in some type of shock but he couldn't bring himself to care about that either, much less remember what he should do about it. His mind felt clouded and sluggish even as his heart raced, pounding painfully behind his eyes, and his scrub top was plastered to his chest with sweat.

"Alex." He distantly registered someone saying his name, softly at first, and then more persistently. "Alex!"

The sound filtered slowly through the rushing in his ears, and it took him a moment to reel his mind back in from the dark corners of terrifying what- ifs he had been wandering through. But when he managed to to tear his blurry gaze away from the clock and focus on the face hovering in front of his, he realized that the voice belonged to Jo. She was crouched a few inches in front of him, not even trying to conceal the anxiety he could see pinching her face as she took him in.

"Hey." She greeted softly, and he answered her with a desperate question, voice rough from disuse.

"Is she out?"

Jo rocked back on her heels and sighed, a shadowy expression that couldn't make out flitting across her face for the space of a breath, then disappearing as quickly as it had come, replaced once again by sympathy.

"I just checked." She replied, glancing up in annoyance when a frazzled intern tried to squeeze past them in the narrow hallway, bumping her shoulder roughly and knocking her off balance. "They're still working on her."

Alex swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, Adam's apple bobbing jerkily as he forced himself to nod in acknowledgment of her words. His attention drifted again and when Jo called his name to bring him back to the present, he jumped, startled. He had forgotten she was still there.

"Alex." Jo resorted to pleading with her boyfriend to be rational, needing to get him to someplace more private, away from the weight of all the curious stares she was painfully aware that they were drawing. "Alex, it's been hours." She begged.

Her hands reached out slowly, hesitantly, to take his sweaty ones, as if he were a wounded animal that she was trying not to startle. "Please," She whispered. "Please, Alex, people are concerned and I'm-" She bit her lower lip as she let her sentence trail off into silence, not wanting to burden him with the weight of her own worry when he was so clearly struggling. "Just come with me, please." She finished after a brief pause. "Just for a few minutes. You need a change of clothes, and… and something to drink."

But he shook his head wearily at her in response, muttering so softly that she could barely understand him, "I can't. I can't leave her, Jo."

"You aren't." She promised reassuringly, speaking to him in the same soothing tone of voice she would use with an upset child. "We don't have to leave the hospital, we can just go to the on-call room. Alex, please be reasonable. You won't be any good to Meredith if you're in a bed yourself, passed out from dehydration." She stood up then, tugging gently on his arms, making it clear that she was not about to take 'no' for an answer.

Jo sighed in relief when Alex gave in to her prodding, hauling himself to his feet with a sharp grunt of effort. They stood without moving for a moment, Alex leaning more heavily on Jo than his pride would have usually allowed, needing the support of her hands while he waited for the tingling pain shooting down his legs to subside. Once the feeling returned to his feet, he nodded, and she slipped one slender arm around his waist, carefully steering them both through the crowded hallways.

Alex kept his eyes fixed firmly on her shoes as they walked, feeling his cheeks flush red with embarrassment as he did his best to ignore the needling stares of the whispering nurses and residents that they passed, but Jo openly glared at them until, intimidated, they turned away.

After what felt like forever, they finally stopped in front the on- call room and Jo opened the door, waiting expectantly for him to follow her. But his legs suddenly felt too heavy to move, and he stood paralyzed in the doorway until she came to guide him inside, ushering him toward one of the narrow beds and letting the door click softly shut behind them. Letting his pounding head drop wearily forward onto his knees, Alex watched through half- closed eyelids as Jo retrieved a frosty water bottle from the mini fridge in the corner and returned to press it into his hand, murmuring kindly, "Here, drink this."

The cold was startling against his sweaty skin and he jerked upright at the unexpected contact, obediently unscrewing the plastic cap and forcing himself to take a small sips of water as she watched. He hadn't felt thirsty until the refreshing liquid filled his mouth; but the water was soothing as it slipped down his raw throat and he gulped desperately, suddenly intensely thirsty. After a minute, he felt Jo's fingers cover his own, gently lowering the water from his lips to reprimand him quietly.

"Slow down." She said softly, brushing a gentle hand down his chest before kneeling to unzip a backpack that he hadn't noticed before. "If you drink it too fast you'll make yourself sick again."

His mind snagged on her use of that word- Again- and Alex wondered distractedly if she had seen him vomit earlier that morning of if one of the others had told her. Normally, the thought of anyone seeing him in such a private moment of pain would make him very uncomfortable, but today he had no emotional energy to spare on empty pride; so he meekly took his girlfriend's advice, swallowing one last time before setting the bottle of water on the bedside table near his knees. He could hear the water sloshing around in his empty stomach, and a brief wave of the foretold nausea swept over him for a second, receding just as Jo pulled a clean set of his sweats from the backpack.

"You didn't have anything in your locker," She explained, setting the neatly folded clothes next to him on the bed. "So I went back to the loft to grab these." The sweats smelled clean and homey, like a flowery mixture of fabric softener and Jo's perfume, and Alex wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the soft material and sob. But instead he nodded in silent thanks, and stood mechanically to pull his soiled shirt over his head.

A dark smear on the fabric caught his eye once he had removed it, and when he realized what the stain was, he suddenly couldn't put it down. He hadn't even noticed that he was still covered in Mer's blood, but the shirt in his hands was caked with it and a quick glance in the mirror hanging on an opposite wall revealed that it was smeared garishly across his face too, like bad Halloween makeup. No wonder Jo had wanted him to leave the hallway, he thought despondently, he looked crazy; like an extra in a gory zombie film.

Alex wasn't sure how long he stood there like that- just staring at his bloody reflection- before Jo cautiously untangled the shirt from his hands, snapping him put of his exhausted trance. She handed him a clean sweatshirt instead and watched as he tugged it robotically over his head. He could feel her staring at him but couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes as he sat back down on the bed to change into the sweatpants. He dimly felt like he owed her some kind of explanation for his all-consuming grief, recognizing even through his mental fog that Jo had never understood what he had with Mer and that it would be difficult and confusing for her to see him this destroyed.

"Jo, I'm sorry." He murmured, not sure even what it was that he was apologizing for but feeling that he should do it anyway. "Mer is…" He fumbled with his words. "If she…"

But his voice trailed off into empty silence and he shook his head slowly, giving up. He was unable to articulate even to himself everything that Meredith Grey meant to him and he didn't have enough energy to try to explain it to Jo for the thousandth time.

He closed his eyes guiltily when he felt her hand run through his hair more understandingly than he felt he deserved, dropping back to her side in acceptance when he didn't move to lean into her touch like he usually would. He heard her footsteps fade as she walked away from him, into the attached bathroom, and then grow louder once more as she returned to his side with a handful of dripping paper towels, kneeling to carefully wash Meredith's blood from his face. He moaned involuntarily at her comforting ministrations, and opened his eyes to stare darkly into hers as she moved to his hands next, scrubbing the dried and cracking blood from across his knuckles. She pressed his fingers to her lips without breaking eye contact, in a lingering kiss that would have lit an immediate fire of lust in his belly on any other day. But now, it just brought another twinge of guilt that she was here, kneeling on the hard floor in front of him and tenderly washing dirt and tears from his skin, when he hadn't even thought of her once all day.

They had been fighting that morning when Meredith had showed up at the loft, and the last words Alex had said to Jo before stomping out of their sliding front door had been harsh and angry, intentionally hurtful. He could still see some of that hurt shining in her chocolate eyes as they searched his own, and he felt some of the cold distance that lately they couldn't seem to bridge still looming between them.

But Jo was here, and she had been right, he thought thankfully. Alex felt revived by the fresh clothes and the cold water on his face, more prepared now to face the outcome of Mer's surgery. A sudden wave of gratutude for Jo flooded his chest and he impulsively reached out to catch her fingers and press them against his heart, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"Thank you." He murmured brokenly, and when she squeezed his hand in return, wordlessly forgiving him for all of the ways that he was unworthy of her love, he sighed in relief.

They rested in that short moment of reprieve until the door to the on-call room burst open with a bang and Edwards ran in, hair loosed from its usual ponytail and eyes wide. His brief peace shattered, Alex was on his feet in a second, swaying slightly with dizziness from the sudden change of position as adrenaline flooded every vein in his body.

"Jo. Dr. Karev," Stephanie nodded at them both, out of breath, but Alex didn't give her a chance to finish her sentence.

"Did she make it?" He interrupted her with a desperate question, voice low and thick with suppressed emotion. Stephanie paused, clearly frightened by his intensity, but the longer she waited to answer him the tighter the knot in the pit of his stomach became.

Alex took a lunging step forward and grasped the girl's forearm like a lifeline, shaking it slightly as he begged for her to release him from his awful purgatory of not knowing.

"Edwards." He snapped. "Is Mer alive?"

When Stephanie nodded, Alex felt his heart leap into his throat with relief, and he barely managed to choke out a single word through the violent joy that constricted his chest

"Where?" He whispered,

"She's in Recovery 2." Stephanie stammered in response. "But, Dr. Karev, I was supposed to prepare you-"

Alex was already halfway down the hall before she could finish her message, running at a full out sprint toward Recovery 2; toward Mer. He knew he wouldn't be able quell his need to see her, to touch her, to reassure himself that she was still breathing long enough to stand and wait for the elevators, so he took the stairs instead, flying down them two at a time. He stumbled and almost fell once but continued on without stopping, oblivious to both the burning in his lungs and the surprised exclamations of the hospital staff he raced past. It wasn't until he reached Meredith's room that he faltered, suddenly afraid of what he would find behind the closed door.

This time, it was Bailey instead of Jo standing watch for him outside the room; his old friend looked tired but resolute, clearly having correctly anticipated that he wouldn't wait to hear Stephanie's report.

"Miranda," Alex panted, his breath coming fast and ragged as he slowed to a gasping stop near her side. "Move. I have to see her."

Bailey nodded in placating agreement, carefully keeping her voice even and calming as she stepped forward to meet him, countering his demand with a gentle admonishment.

"Alex, now just slow down. Has anyone told you what happened? The extent of her injuries?"

They probably had, he realized, when they had come to sit beside him in the hallway. But he'd been too lost in the haze of his panic to register their words, so he shook his head wordlessly in response, clenching his hands into fists as they began to tremble.

"Ok." Miranda pressed a steadying hand against his chest, and Alex exhaled slowly, knowing that the gesture was intended equally to comfort him and restrain him from entering the recovery room until he had listened to what his mentor had to say.

"Meredith was attacked by the post-ictal patient she came in with this morning." Bailey began, keeping her voice soft and low, speaking to him in the same way he had heard her talk to grieving family members in the waiting room. Her soothing tone seemed strangely at odds with the horrific information she delivered as she continued.

"Meredith sustained some blunt force trauma which resulted in extensive injuries. We repaired a catastrophic intra-abdominal bleed, and both of her eardrums, which were ruptured. There's also an extremely high probability that she won't have any hearing for at least a few weeks."

Alex swallowed hard at her words, the hospital blurring around him as he tried to catalog Meredith's injuries in his mind. He was grateful that Miranda kindly gave him a moment to attempt to process when she had just said before plunging ahead with her devastating list.

"She has broken ribs, one of which punctured her left lung and caused it to collapse. She's still on the vent. Callie set her fractured radius, ulna, and tibia, and reduced a left elbow dislocation. Her left leg is in traction." Alex's stomach pitched and rolled with nausea at each new injury, and though he prayed the excruciating conversation would end, Bailey kept talking.

"She has a broken jaw, and we can't wire it until she's weaned off the vent, so there will be at least one more surgery. She's receiving TPN through a nasal tube for nutrition and saline fluids for hydration through her central line. And of course, she's on morphine for pain management."

Bailey exhaled deeply as she finally finished her sobering debrief, tilting her head in compassion as she took in Alex's ashen face and trembling hands and the glistening sheen of sweat that coated his forehead. Feeling her heart break for him, the chief murmured kindly, "Come here, Karev." And then she wrapped her short arms around her former intern's waist the same way she had done only a few years before, when a grieving Meredith had taken her kids and disappeared in the wake of Derek's death, leaving Alex to slowly spiral into lonely panic.

But this time was different, and Bailey pulled back to place a hand bracingly on either side of Karev's face, meeting his eyes with as much confidence as she could muster and commanding his attention with a gentle shake.

"Alex, listen to me." She comforted. "Meredith made it, ok? She's here. She has a long road ahead of her, but she'll get through. She always does."

Bailey waited for a response that never came, all Alex could manage in return to her speech was a half- nod as he gently extricated himself from Bailey's grip. He cleared his throat gruffly, dragging a hand down his face and pretending not to notice the Chief wiping away rare tears from her own cheeks as well. When she sniffed and nodded solemnly toward the door, he took a deep breath and stepped inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Alex's first glimpse of Meredith knocked the breath out of him with as much force as a sucker punch to the gut. Miranda's detailed description of her injuries, and his own attempt to steel himself before entering her room had all been pointless, he realized in that instant. Because the second he saw her face, so swollen and beaten that it was hardly recognizable, all of his knowledge and training evaporated in an instant and suddenly he wasn't a surgeon anymore; he was just another terrified bystander.

He felt his emotions overpower his strength and his knees unexpectedly buckle beneath him, then for the second time that day he found himself using a door frame to physically hold himself upright. Meredith looked so tiny and frail lying there underneath all of the wires and IV lines. And she was so pale-her skin beneath the garish patchwork of bruising was almost the same color as the thin sheet she was covered with. She was still naked beneath it; he noted detachedly that they hadn't bothered even to drape an open gown over her for privacy. He could see the lumpy outline of the chest bandages stabilizing her broken ribs, and then every fluid line of her slender frame. He had seen Meredith naked plenty of times before, but this time it made her seem too helpless and vulnerable, too exposed.

He could hear the vent whooshing loudly and rhythmically in the silence of her room, and though the sound had never bothered him before tonight either, something about watching it breathe for Mer- forcing her chest artificially up and down- suddenly unnerved him. Alex had to force his eyes to travel slowly over the rest of her body, noting the feeding tube in her nose and the morphine button in her right hand, her left arm that was casted and propped on a pile of pillows, and her left leg that was in traction- immobilized from the hip down. That was as much as he could handle before he had to turn away, biting back a strangled sob as he slammed his forehead hard against the door, closing his eyes to block out the garish scene that he knew he would never be able to get out of his mind. Even if Meredith recovered from this, Alex thought desperately, he never would. He would see her this way in his nightmares now, he was chillingly certain of it. She would visit him this way now too in those broken flashes of time when just a sound, just a smell, would trigger a traumatic memory and drag him back into dark places that he never wanted to visit again.

Alex felt a flood of searing rage toward the man who had done this to her begin spreading slowly through his body, thick and red and hot like molten lava; melting away all reason. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and the muscles in his jaw tightened until he could hear his own teeth grinding together. That monster was still in the hospital, he knew; and for one wild moment Alex allowed himself to visualize pulling his chart, finding his room, turning off his IV drip and staying to watch him suffer even just a fraction of the pain he had inflicted on Meredith. In the past, Alex wouldn't have even stopped to consider; in the past, he would have let his temper flare and to hell with the consequences. But he wasn't that person anymore; he had changed. Mer had changed him. So now, drawing a shaky breath, he let the anger seep away, draining from his veins until he was left hollow and spent.

Wearily, he dragged a flimsy plastic chair up to the edge of Meredith's bed, doing his best to move it as quietly as possible across the floor until the bandage around her head reminded him that he could be as loud as he wanted- she couldn't hear him anyway. After he had settled gingerly down on her right side, carefully opposite her injured limbs, Alex reached for Meredith's hand instinctively then hesitated. He was half afraid to touch her, suddenly worried that if he tried she might shatter under his fingers like the transparent glass she resembled. But his need for reassurance that she was really alive was stronger than his fear, and after a moment he worked up the courage to carefully cover her uninjured hand with both of his. Her skin felt warm and dry against his cold, clammy palms, and he was unspeakably comforted by the realization that if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel her pulse fluttering softly under his fingers. Blinding tears stung his eyes as he caressed her small hand with one thumb and his throat ached from holding back the torrent of incapacitating grief that had been threatening to drown him for these last 7 hours of hell. Now that he was finally alone in the quiet safety of Meredith's room, unable to fight it anymore, Alex let his head drop forward onto the hospital bed and sobbed.

After that, time seemed to lose all meaning, speeding up and slowing down around him so indiscriminately that Alex stopped even trying to keep track. He lived in that tiny hospital room: sleeping in the hard plastic chair that tied the muscles in his back into knots, and only leaving Meredith's side for 30 seconds at a time- just long enough to pee or to grab a quick swallow of water from her bathroom sink. He was beginning to smell after so long without a shower, and his beard was coming in thick and itchy, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered anymore was being there when she woke up, and all he wanted now more than anything else in the world was just to see her beautiful eyes again. But days dragged on and she was still unresponsive, until one morning he woke up with angry, red lines imprinted on his cheek from where it had rested against the hard railing of her hospital bed and realized that it had somehow already been 6 days; 6 days and Mer was still on the vent. 6 days, and the longer that she remained unconscious the heavier the weight of Alex's terror grew. Webber visited that night, clapping a hand on Alex's slumped shoulders trying to assuage his fears, but his offered reassurances had fallen flat. Alex had read the poorly concealed worry in his old teacher's face and knew that they were both tormented by the same knowledge. They both knew that intubation wasn't risk free, and that often, the longer a patient stayed on the vent, the greater the chance became that they might never come off of it again. Now every time he looked at Meredith's face, Alex felt like he needed a vent himself, like he hadn't been able to draw a full breath for a week.

Zola and Bailey and Ellis had spent that first raw night with Kepner. They were one big village, all of Mer's adopted family, and it had been Alex's turn to pick the kids up from daycare; but April had taken one look at him as he slouched nearly catatonic in the hallway, and informed him sympathetically but firmly that she was taking the kids home with her. He had only nodded in silent gratitude, the initial stab of guilt that twisted in his chest quickly swallowed up in relief that he had the night to gather himself. Then one night had turned into six, because his face betrayed him; he wore all his anguish in the purple circles that hugged his eyes like shiners and the dark hollows that had appeared in his cheeks, and the last thing that he wanted was to scare those babies with his own obvious terror. But on the 7th day, when Meredith still hadn't shown any signs of waking, he had forced himself to get up and shave, splashed some water on his face after a sleepless night and had shown up at Kepner's front door ready to take the kids out for ice cream. Bouncing baby Ellis on his knees, he had gently explained to a wide-eyed 5 and 2-year-old that their mommy had gotten a boo- boo at work.

"She'll have to stay in the hospital for a little while, ok?" Alex had explained as simply as he could, falling back onto the comforting optimism that he used with his little patients at work, letting the familiar protocol take over and carry him through this conversation- this horrifying conversation- that he had never imagined having with these kids that he loved like his own. His heart broke for them; they had already been through so much since Derek's death and it killed him to think that the universe had so callously handed them even more pain. He drew some comfort at least from the knowledge that Bailey was too young to follow much of what was going on, and probably wouldn't even remember this time of his life. But Zola was different; she was intuitive like her mother, he had seen Meredith in her as she studied his face so solemnly, her big chocolate eyes perceptive and unblinking.

"You can draw her pictures and send her presents." He had continued, doing his best to find and emphasize the positives in an impossible situation. "And before you know it, we'll be able to go visit her. Then soon after that she'll be home, just as good as new. I promise." Bailey had nodded trustingly and quickly returned to licking his ice cream cone; but Zo-Zo had slipped her sticky hand into Alex's the same way she had a thousand times before, her small fingers anchoring him in the welcome normalcy of the moment. And so, he started to find a precarious balance somehow. Meredith was moved from surgical recovery up to the ICU, and he spent most of his time by her side and all of the rest with her kids. Every afternoon when it was time to do school and daycare pickup, Alex would tear himself away from Meredith's room and try to make life as normal as possible for her kids; he hosted pizza parties in front of the tv, and sleepovers in the living room and played smiling chauffeur for shopping trips and playdates and park trips. During the day, he held it together for Zola and Bailey and Ellis- or they held him together. But every night, once he'd read them 10 stories and tucked them into their beds; once Maggie, or Arizona, or Callie or Kepner arrived to take over for him with a pitying smile, he went back to the hospital- back to Mer- and fell apart.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fighting her way back to consciousness felt like swimming upward through a riptide. Each hard-fought inch of progress Meredith made toward the surface was immediately, frustratingly lost as the clutching undercurrent pulled her down again, deeper than she had been before. She floated in that fuzzy darkness for what felt like years, shrouded in echoing silence, occasionally nearing the surface only just enough to be distantly aware of the pressure of hands and the pain of light stabbing her eyelids before she drifted away again. But slowly, the tide went out, and reality began to filter back into hazy recognition.

The first sensation Meredith registered was pain, searing and hot. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, as if someone had lit her body on fire while she was sleeping. For a moment she was confused, unable to remember where she was. The heavy memories of trauma hovered elusively just beyond the reach of her sluggish mind but familiar anxiety began to rise in her chest, along with a dread that she couldn't explain. Maybe this was all just a bad dream, she thought, a new incarnation of her night terrors. Meredith tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down, like she did nearly every night, but this time there was something stuck in her throat, blocking her airway. She choked on it, suddenly claustrophobic, gagging again and again as tears streamed down her face and her body tried futilely to expel the unexpected intruder. Her lungs were inflating of their own accord, forcing air into her body and she realized in sudden horror that she must be on a vent. She was on a vent- and yet somehow she was suffocating.

Once her mind made that first connection it was like a dam had burst, allowing a tidal wave of vivid imagery of the attack to come crashing brutally back into the forefront of her memory. Desperate to escape the terrifying memories, Meredith's eyes flew open in wild panic and she was immediately blinded by bright lights overhead. She tried to scream, but although she could feel her vocal cords vibrating in her neck, her voice seemed to make no sound; a suffocating shroud of silence hung thickly around her. Her frantic eyes searched the room without knowing what they were looking for, passing over blurry faces hovering in front of her, and lips speaking comforting words that never reached her. She was still coughing and gasping and choking helplessly, and she could feel unfamiliar hands grabbing her roughly, straining to contain her flailing limbs, but none of these nameless faces took pity on her, no one made it stop. Her thoughts were scattered bursts of sound and imagery, but as she struggled they materialized into one face, one name. Alex. ALEX! She latched onto the word, not immediately understanding why but recognizing that it represented salvation.

"Alex!" She tried to shriek but her mouth wouldn't move, and any noise she made was drowned out by the deafening silence that continued to roar in her ears.

It was nearly midnight, and Alex strode through the quiet hallways of the ICU with restrained urgency. Ellis was teething and clingy; it had taken him the better part of an hour to settle her to sleep and with each moment that had passed, his uneasiness at being separated from Meredith for so much longer than usual had increased until it was impossible to ignore. It gnawed at his stomach as he walked, nauseating and persistent. He'd been trying not to lean too heavily on Jo for help this week, painfully mindful that she hadn't signed up to play instant family with him. But he had been desperate enough to call her tonight; he was already waiting by the front door, wallet and keys clutched in his hand even before she had picked up the phone.

"Please, Jo." He had begged once she answered, without even bothering to say hello. "I'm going crazy, I can't... I have to be there. Robbins got called into a late surgery, but the kids are already in bed so you won't have to do anything, just..." He trailed off into silence for a moment, hating how vulnerable he sounded, how selfish he was.

"I'm sorry. I just need... I just need you to be here until she comes." He finished apologetically. He had woken her, he was sure. He had heard it in her sleep- slurred voice as she answered. But she agreed to come so Alex ignored the slight resentment that she tried to hide. But he knew why it was there; he hadn't slept in their bed, hadn't even been back to the loft since his entire world had stopped spinning and come crashing down off its axis. Alex knew that Jo was hurt, and probably justified in feeling that way too; he just couldn't spare the emotional energy it would take to talk about it. Not when he was barely hanging on.

"Alex, breathe." She had sighed, and all he had heard in her voice then was defeat. "Of course, I'll come. I can be there in 10 minutes."

He was startled out of his thoughts as he finally turned the corner to Meredith's room by the sight of bright lights and the blur of frenzied activity that he could just make out through the opaque glass of her sliding door. Alex felt his pulse begin to race and his heart leapt into his throat as his mind immediately began conjuring up his deepest fears; it whispered that she was crashing, she was dying, and he wasn't there. He wouldn't get a chance to say goodbye. Alex let fear push his legs into a sprint, and winced at the horrible, heart wrenching sound of Mer's strangled screams that accosted his ears when he burst into the room and skidded to a stop, panting and struggling to focus. His eyes swept the room, absorbing the frantic night nurses repeatedly paging the doctor on call, and trying to restrain Meredith, who was not dead.

Not dead, not dead, not dead. His mind repeated the phrase in gleeful relief. Not dead, awake.

Awake and thrashing in panic and fighting the vent.

"We're not trained to take it out." One flustered nurse told him, shouting to be heard over Meredith's garbled cries. "If she doesn't stop thrashing we'll have to sedate her again! She could rip her stitches or reopen the hole in that lung!"

The sound of the nurse's voice released Alex from his panicked immobility, and he was by Meredith's side in a breath, crossing the length of the floor in two strides as his medical training finally, blessedly took over.

"I'm here, Mer. I'm here. I've got you." He comforted softly as he pulled on a pair of gloves and prepared to remove the endotracheal tube that was so obviously choking her.

"Wait! Are you authorized to do that?" The charge nurse questioned him nervously and he did pause for a moment to consider whether he still had privileges at Grey Sloan after not working all week. But he couldn't think clearly, because Meredith's distorted screams sounded too much like his name, and her eyes suddenly locked on his, haunting him with their terrified, pleading fear and immediately ending his indecision.

"She's having a panic attack," He growled, fury and fear combining to make his voice sound gruffer than he intended. This was his fault, Alex seethed internally; he would never forgive himself for not being here, for letting this happen.

"I'm taking her off the vent!" He declared, eyes flashing, daring anyone to argue with him. But in credit to their self preservation skills, no one did; so he leaned over Meredith's bed to flip the switch on the hissing machine and slowly began to pull at the tube, relying on muscle memory as his vision blurred with unshed tears. Alex could feel the intensity of Meredith's fear like it inhabited his own body; each time she gagged his stomach roiled like it was about to rebel too, so he worked as quickly as was safe.

"Ok, Mer, ok." He murmured soothing promises at her, hearing his voice crack with emotion. "It's coming out, I've got you. It's almost over."

When the final inch of the flexible tube came out of her throat, Meredith stopped her desperate thrashing and went limp as she gasped for air, coughing and trembling, with tears streaming down her swollen cheeks. Alex panted too, shaking with remaining adrenaline and relief, until the shrill shrieking of an alarm behind him captured his attention and one glance at her plummeting blood oximeter reading sent him lunging for the oxygen mask hanging above her bed. He gently held the mask over Meredith's nose and mouth, watching it fog and clear far too rapidly as she wheezed. His free hand rubbed calming circles over the few uninjured areas of her body he could reach- her shoulder, her arm- beyond caring who witnessed his open display of affection. Everything within him was desperate to comfort her, to do whatever he could to take some of her pain away, and he doubted he would have been able to keep his hands off of her even if he tried.

"I know, Mer, I know. You're ok. You're ok." Alex murmured soft reassurances at her under his breath, knowing she couldn't hear him but unable to stop the words flowing out of his agony and relief. When her good hand flopped clumsily toward him he grabbed it in his own, pressing it to his chest and squeezing as tightly as he dared; and when she grabbed a weak fistful of his t-shirt, he did his best to smile at her through the tears that he wasn't strong enough to keep from falling on her face.

Meredith stared up at Alex unblinkingly, immediately calmed by his steadying touch, letting his eyes anchor her, pulling her out of the fear. She had known he was there when the clinical touch of strangers and the smell of antiseptic had given way to familiar callouses and woodsy cologne. As soon as he had leaned close enough to her she had reached for him, weak and uncoordinated but desperate. Her trembling fingers still twisted the soft material of his shirt between them long moments later, the way a drowning man clutches a life preserver: with no intention of ever letting go.

That's what Alex had always been for her, Meredith thought drowsily. Even through the haze of her terror she had known with bone-deep, subconscious certainty that Alex was her lifeline- he kept her afloat. And he was still doing it, smiling tightly at her even as his tears dropped like warm rain against her cheeks. As adrenaline seeped slowly from her muscles the pain returned to take its place, crushing and vengeful. It grew until it was strong enough to darken the edges of her vision, leaving her only dimly aware of the door behind Alex opening, and another rush of activity beginning around them. But she could feel fingers fiddling with her tender IV locks, and she shivered as someone lifted her blankets to palpate fresh bruises, letting a rush of cold air hit her naked skin. The next time she opened her drooping eyes, friendly faces hovered in front of her. Their smiling lips formed more words that she couldn't hear, but her tired mind supplied their names: Bailey, Richard, Maggie- her family.

It was too much, and she was too tired, so Meredith let her eyes drift closed, blocking them all out. She was relieved when she felt the rush of whatever drugs they had given her hit her veins, running cold into her arm, immediately sweeping away the pain and her along with it. She was floating in darkness again, drifting away on the tide of blissful unconsciousness, but she didn't let go of Alex's shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

When Meredith woke again, it was to hands tugging on her bandages, jostling and then repositioning her broken arm. It was easier to find consciousness this time; her mind remembered where she was more quickly, and she felt less disconnected from her body. The pain was still present- always present- but it was muted and dull now instead of searing. The silence still surrounded her, she could feel its isolating press, but her vision seemed clearer too and when she tried to turn her head to see who the tugging hands belonged to, her body obeyed her.

It was Callie's face that drifted into her line of sight, and she smiled- too happy, too bright- as soon as she noticed Meredith staring vacantly back at her. She was talking enthusiastically, without pausing for breath, but her lips moved too fast, and Meredith didn't even try to concentrate on guessing what she might be saying. She turned her eyes slowly away from Callie, letting her attention wander across her body instead. Her figure looked unfamiliar to herself under the thin sheets and for a second she had the unsettling feeling of being trapped in the body of a stranger.

She was bulky in odd places from the swaths of bandages around her torso, and bony and gaunt in others; the sharp outline of her hipbones drawn clearly visible under the sheet made her suck in a sharp gasp of surprise and concern at how much weight she appeared to have lost. Even her uninjured wrist and forearm seemed gaunt to her inspection, thinner than she had ever been. Meredith could feel the NG tube threaded through her nostril running down the back of her throat, its presence was annoying but not uncomfortable, and she realized dimly that she was probably receiving TPN. Some higher functioning part of her Doctor's mind pulled up the abbreviation, and she thought she vaguely remembered that TPN was how they kept coma patients alive. A liquid similar to baby formula, it was enough nutrition to keep you from dying, but not enough to keep you from looking like you were dying.

Her attention wandering, Meredith let her gaze continue down her body until it landed on her left leg, which was still in traction and newly encased in a neon pink cast. It was clearly freshly applied; Meredith could see the fiberglass tape still glistening wetly, not yet fully hardened, and the skin beneath the cast felt uncomfortably warm from the heat the material generated as it set. Remotely, she understood that since Callie was an orthopedic surgeon, the uncomfortable tugging on her arm must be accomplishing the same thing, and she would soon be sporting a second cast as well.

A monitor at the foot of her bed was lit up, displaying images of CT scans, and X ray films and it caught her eye next. A jolt of trepidation ran through Meredith when she saw Grey, M. written on the bottom of the screen and realized they were her scans-her films. She desperately wanted to know what they indicated, she needed to know what was wrong with her. Meredith struggled to focus on the CT films and thought she could just make out a darker area in the frontal and temporal lobes of her brain. It didn't look like a bleed- a contusion, maybe? Likely a concussion from blunt force trauma, she thought distantly, squinting to see better. A concussion would explain her trouble focusing and why the overhead lights felt like knives viciously stabbing her pupils. She thought she could see fracture lines in the various x-ray films as well, but her head started to pound with the strain before she could be sure and she abruptly turned away, closing her eyes against the illuminated evidence of the trauma she had suffered. It all started to feel too heavy, too intense, and she suddenly didn't want to know anymore.

When Meredith wearily opened her eyes again, she felt her entire body stiffen. Penny was there, standing only inches from her face and touching her, helping Callie cast her injured arm. The same hands that had treated her unconscious husband on his deathbed were now working on her. Penny's presence brought images of Derek lying intubated and lifeless on a gurney in a strange hospital spinning violently back through her mind. The nightmarish imaginings collided with memories of herself gagging and choking on a vent only days ago, and irrevocably unraveled any resolve she had made toward trying to be the bigger person. Penny's touch seemed to burn her skin like acid now, twisting her stomach in revulsion and Meredith felt dangerous emotions beginning to constrict her chest, clawing their way up her throat. She wanted to yank her arm away from the resident's grasp, to scream and yell and break down in tears; she wanted to order Penny out of the room and demand another doctor. But she was helpless, broken, voiceless and deaf.

This must be how Derek felt before he died.

She thought, the words were a horrifying whisper in her mind and she recoiled from them, tumbling on a tidal wave of fresh grief. It was too much; she was too fragile to handle the fierce onslaught of emotions and memories that were flooding her battered mind. She was drowning in its current, desperate to return to darkness and emptiness, where it was quiet, and she was safe. She clenched her right hand into a trembling fist, trying to dig her fingernails into her palm like she always did during panic attacks, hoping that the pain would bring clarity. But instead of soft flesh Meredith felt smooth plastic and glanced down, dizzy with relief when she realized what was resting in her palm. A morphine pump. She slammed her thumb down on the button and held it down long after the pain had faded into nothing, letting the drugs run cold into her arm until she was incapable of any thought, any feeling at all. She held the button down until her eyes slipped closed and the welcome escape of unconsciousness made her fingers go limp.

Bright lights roused Meredith again the next day, cruelly assaulting her eyes even through closed eyelids. She definitely had a concussion, she thought foggily. She groaned, face twitching as she pulled herself fully into wakefulness. Her eyes creaked open blearily, squinting against the painful brightness, and it took a moment before she could focus on her surroundings. Her legs were tingling from the awkward position they had held for so long, and the thigh muscles of her left leg ached from the traction, so she shifted gingerly, flexing her toes in an attempt to restore blood flow. But with a sharp pang of dread, she found that she couldn't move; a solid weight was pinning her good leg against the bed. At first the pressure made her feel claustrophobic, and she worried that she had been restrained. She knew that sometimes the ICU restrained their especially fragile patients who could risk injuring themselves further if they inadvertently changed positions while sleeping. But when she craned her neck to see, there were no velcro straps; just a haggard Alex draped across her lap, mouth half open as he snored.

Her muscles which had been tensed with anxiety relaxed, melting back into the bed as she registered his presence. Now that she knew it was Alex, the weight of his body was no longer confining. It felt comforting and reassuring, like a heavy comforter wrapped cozily around her in the winter. Exhaling deeply, she took a moment to study him. Alex looked pale in the harsh light of the ICU, she thought with a frown of concern. His facial hair was longer than she had ever seen it, as if he hadn't shaved in weeks, and the dark circles under his eyes were such a deep shade of purple that they seemed like bruises. He looked like hell; and Meredith was momentarily self-conscious of her own appearance, certain she looked even worse.

Rapid movement in the corner of her eye made her lose her train of thought, drawing her attention to the hallway outside her room. Through her partially open door, she could see Richard blocking a clearly intoxicated Amelia from shoving her way into the room. Meredith could tell from their body language that they were yelling; their faces were red with anger, Richard's shoulders were taut with stress and Amelia was sobbing. She could see their mouths moving, lips spitting harsh words, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.

As she watched, Amelia stormed angrily away, and Meredith felt answering anger bubble unexpectedly up inside her stomach. She was tempted to blame Derek's sister for every injury she had seen on her scans, for how wrecked Alex looked, and how scared her kids must be. Amelia hadn't answered her pager, hadn't been there for her when she had needed her- this time or any of the other times in their past. She was always thinking of herself, always falling apart and forcing Meredith to be the strong one who held them both together. When Meredith let herself think that Amelia's petty anger over an argument she couldn't even remember now was the reason that she had been left to lie helplessly on a cold cement floor for agonizing moments, bleeding and alone, her breath hitched in her chest and tears threatened to fall.

Richard had seen her spying on their heated exchange-she knew because he had glanced at her- and he strode quickly over to her bed now at the sight of the tumultuous emotions scrawled plainly across her face. Meredith felt one of his wrinkled hands begin to gently stroke her hair, attempting to calm her, but he didn't escape her sudden anger either. Webber had abandoned her too, when she had needed him, in that park so many years ago; and she didn't want to look into his eyes now and be faced with his guilt-driven kindness. She couldn't hold anyone else together while she was falling apart; so she ran away instead. Her hand clenched the morphine pump again, so tightly that her knuckles blanched white, and she held her thumb down on the button until the tide of drugs rushed in to rescue her, sweeping her away from reality and back into darkness.

The next thing Meredith knew, she was moving. She could feel the vibrations of her bed shaking beneath her, bumping her broken bones painfully, and the rush of air on her face as she was pushed somewhere unfamiliar. Immediately disoriented, her eyes flew open, darting rapidly around to take in her new surroundings. She was prepped for surgery, she realized with a jolt, reaching her good hand up to touch the sterile cap that covered her greasy hair. Her skin smelled like Hibiclens, the medical soap they used for scrub, and someone had dressed her in a fresh hospital gown.

Why was she having surgery?

Her panicked mind scrambled frantically to catalog her symptoms as she tried to determine what had gone wrong and what new pain she would be in when she woke up. Her eyes found Hunt's, and then Jackson's as each turned from his position at the front of her bed to glance back at her with a tight smile, offering words of what she assumed were encouragement. But the syllables meant nothing if she still couldn't hear and the poorly concealed concern in her friends' eyes did nothing to ease her fear. Meredith tried to shout for them to stop, but when she tried to open her mouth to speak, blinding pain flared in her jaw, sending dark spots swimming across her vision and tears streaming from her eyes. So she thrashed instead, kicking the blankets off of her body with her uninjured leg. Her arm swept frantically across the bed, searching for the morphine pump, for the drugs that had quickly become her escape. But instead of smooth plastic, her fingers closed around warm, calloused skin.

Alex.

She clutched his fingers in a death grip, letting his familiar touch take some of the edge off of her panic as she stared up at him, begging him with her eyes to stop the bed and explain to her what was going on. Alex's face was drawn and pinched with worry as he gazed back at her, and she saw his Adam's apple jerk as he swallowed his emotional response to her pain, but even as well as he knew her, he didn't understand her unspoken plea. Instead of ordering them to stop, he leaned down to brush his lips softly against her forehead in a gentle kiss, offering her a sympathetic smile as he straightened. Much too soon, the bed stopped rolling and Meredith knew they had reached the OR. She watched as Jackson set a heavy hand on Alex's shoulder, keeping him from following her across the sterile line painted in red on the floor. When she felt Alex begin to disentangle his fingers from hers, Meredith reacted on impulsive, tightening her grip to the point of pain.

Alex jerked quickly back to face her, his eyes narrowed with concern as he studied her pale face but he just squeezed her hand reassuringly in response. Meredith could see his lips moving again and read her name there- Mer. Even though she didn't know what else he was saying to her, she could almost hear how he was saying it; his tone soft but bracing. It was the same voice he'd used to talk her off of ledges for the last 15 years and she was sure he was using it again now, as he tried to convince her to let go of him and let her broken body be put back together. But he was her lifeline, and she was incapable of rational thought anymore. All Meredith knew was that he couldn't leave her and she couldn't let go or she would drown. She was already sinking slowly, she could feel it, and Alex was the only thing keeping her head above water.

He frowned, hot breath puffing against her face as he leaned close to her ear to murmur something that she couldn't hear, then stood again to argue with Hunt. She could see by the way he squared his shoulders, and by the flash of steely anger that ignited in his eyes as he gestured protectively toward her that she would have her way. He would stay. Owen's jaw twitched, but Alex's hand stayed clasped tightly in hers and when Wilson opened the doors to the OR, glancing at their entwined fingers with a dark expression, Hunt nodded in resignation and waved them inside. Meredith kept her eyes squeezed shut as her body was lifted gently from the bed and transferred to a cold operating table, and took deep, obedient breaths of the sedation when Jo held the mask over her nose. She felt weak and ashamed and forever grateful that Alex held on tight, anchoring her with his touch until the anesthesia finally released her from consciousness again.


	6. Chapter 6

Jo paused just outside the open door of Meredith Grey's recovery room, peeking through a gap in the privacy curtains at her boyfriend, holding hands with another woman. She watched him- hunched over their entangled fingers, completely engrossed in Meredith, studying her face for signs of the sedation wearing off, fiddling with her IV lock, smoothing her blankets, checking her monitors- and she felt her stomach sink. Jealously and also, weirdly, shame for feeling jealous, was twisting her insides into a knot. She couldn't say that Alex never looked at her like he was gazing at Grey now, because he did. But she also couldn't convince herself that his face wore that expression for her more often than it did for Grey either. There was a part of her felt selfish and immature for feeling this way, while her boyfriend's best friend was lying unconscious in an ICU bed, after her second surgery of the week. But a much louder part of her couldn't stop listening to the whispered doubts that crept into her mind, suggesting that it wasn't just now, just due to Meredith's injuries that she was all Alex could think or talk about. It had always been this way. Jo shifted her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, remembering the night Meredith had used a key to the loft Jo hadn't even known that she had, and crawled into bed between her and Alex without even an apology, and he just rolled over to slip an arm under her head like the whole situation was normal instead of incredibly, shockingly, the opposite of normal. Jo flushed , cheeks warm and red as her mind continued calling up memories, this time of the day she had learned of The Pause rule of personhood- while Alex was on top of her and her fingers were digging deep into his shoulders and she was close, so close to the edge of bliss. But his phone had buzzed and suddenly he'd stopped, rolling abruptly off of her to answer it, leaving her panting and frustrated, to finish by herself. She had known when she met him, that he and Meredith were a package deal; she had seen them all over the hospital for months. But she had always thought deep down that with time, he would come to count on her. She had hoped that he would become her person and she would finally be his priority.

" _No, it doesn't mean that you're not a priority. It means she has a license to take her crap out on me! It means I'm gonna be there for her when she needs me, 'cause she's the only one I can count on! Look, she stood by me for years when everybody else left, no matter what. And I'm gonna do the same for her."_

Alex's words from a few months ago echoed through her mind again, and she could hear them again now just as he had spoken them then, every nuance of tone and shift of facial expression plainly inscribed in her memory. She wondered how Derek had done it: shared his wife and his marriage, even his bed, with Alex- with Yang. She wondered if she would want to even if she could figure out how. But then her shoes scuffed the ground softly and Alex turned at the sound, meeting her guilty eyes through the gap in the curtain. The gentle mix of warmth and mild amusement in his gaze as he caught her spying reminded her of how addicting it was to be loved by him, and when he scraped his chair around to face her with the slow, reverent smile that she hadn't seen all week, she momentarily forgot her jealousy and what she had come to tell him.

"Hey." Alex greeted Jo softly, as if Meredith were just sleeping instead of sedated, and the slightest noise could wake her. "How did it go in there?"

Hunt had made him leave the OR as soon as Meredith had given in to the anesthetic and Alex had been livid. She had seen his face turn red and the telltale vein in his forehead pulsing, and for a moment Jo had been afraid that he was going to punch a hole right through the drywall of the OR. So she had walked him out to the hallway, breaking scrub to run her hand down his arm in reassurance. He hadn't left his station for the whole three hours that they were in surgery; she had seen him through the glass inlay of the door any time she glanced up, anxiously staring back at her. And he looked eager now for the updates on Meredith's condition that had been withheld from him because of hospital policy. Tentatively, Jo walked over to her boyfriend and lowered herself onto his lap. There was an awkward pause, where she feared he might not reciprocate at all. The fear of the rejection made her face flush in embarrassment and she almost got up; but then she felt his arms come up to wrap around her waist, letting go of Meredith's fingers to do so, and his hot breath huffed against her neck, smelling of sleep and bad coffee and sending shivers of desire down her spine.

"Gosh, I miss you." She breathed, steadying herself with a gasp before answering his question. "Grey did great." She informed him straightforwardly. "The inflammation had gone down enough for Jackson to be able to re- align and set the TMJ joint. It was a clean break, so she didn't need any plates or screws. But he did place wires, so it will be six weeks before she can open her mouth to talk or eat." She felt Alex nod against her back, his bristly chin scraping her hair as he digested this information. "Bailey wants her on total vocal rest," Jo continued, "just to be conservative, until the swelling surrounding her larynx dissipates. But she can't injure herself by trying to talk anymore, since the joint is stabilized now. It would just be painful."

There was a moment of silence, and then Alex questioned softly, "And her hearing?" Jo huffed a soft sigh, not wanting to answer.

"I don't know, Alex. Jackson wasn't sure. He said unless there was something that the scans missed; it should return soon. The eardrum repairs are taking well, and she'll likely regain full hearing on her left side and about 60 percent on the right. It's... just a matter of time." She finished gently. There was quiet again, until a monitor beeped, and Alex immediately shifted to check the reading- just a normal fluctuation of blood pressure- before leaning back into his chair again. Jo could feel his muscles tensed beneath her, his entire body strung so tightly that she thought he might snap without warning, like an overstretched rubber band. Concerned, she turned in his arms so she could study his face. He looked conflicted, as he stared past her unseeingly at some point over Meredith's bed, eyes full of a dark foreboding that she couldn't quite understand given the positive prognosis she had just delivered. Her 15-minute break was nearly over, and she was about to stand and leave him with a kiss when he broke the silence.

"She shouldn't still be so out of it..." His voice was so low that Jo barely heard him. "What?" She asked, confused. "She just had surgery, Alex. You know that it can be normal for the anesthesia to make patients a little drowsy-even for several hours afterward. All of her stats are fine-" He cut her off, interrupting her reassurances, the worry she heard behind his words making his voice sound gruffer than he intended.

"It's not the anesthesia." He snapped, dragging a heavy hand down his face. "She hasn't been awake for more than 5 minutes at a time since she came off the vent. I talked to Ashley, at the nurse's station down the hall," He clarified in response to an inquiring look Jo gave him, seeming to pause to gather his resolve before continuing, bluntly. "She's on a self-regulated morphine drip, Jo. And... it's been dispensing too frequently. At… at least double the dosage amount someone with her body-weight should need for pain management."

Jo's stomach sank as he trailed off, and she absorbed the veiled implication behind his confessed suspicions. "You think she's abusing the drugs?" She whispered questioningly, incredulous. Alex just shrugged miserably, jostling her uncomfortably as his foot began tapping against the hospital floor in a burst of nervous energy.

"I don't know." He exhaled; pale lips set in a grim line. "She's pretty banged up, and broken ribs can hurt like hell. I just... I don't know, Jo." He sighed deeply, and Jo sat stifled by the stillness, wanting to offer comfort, but unsure of what to say in response to such a heavy allegation. She was spared having to come up with answer by the low hum of Meredith groaning in her sleep, twitching spastically beneath the blankets as the effects of the anesthesia slowly began to lift. Alex's arms released her from their clutching embrace unceremoniously, and she stood quickly to keep herself from falling as he bent forward to take his friend's hand again, their conversation forgotten, eyes only for Meredith once more. The familiar jealousy returned, squeezing Jo's throat, and speeding up her heartbeat until it thumped distractingly loud in her ears. But she stuffed it down inside to deal with another time, instead turning to leave the room after dropping an unreturned kiss into Alex's hair. It was time to get back to work; she could go home to their empty apartment and wallow later.


	7. Chapter 7

They were all there when Meredith returned gradually to consciousness; even without her hearing to tell her she knew. Intermittent gusts of air ruffled her hair, telling her that people were bustling back and forth in the space around her bed; and thecshadows danced across her closed eyelids meant someone leaning over her to change a bandage or check a monitor.

Before forcing her eyes to flutter slowly open and face the overwhelming brightness around her, Meredith laid still for a moment, deciding to do a quick inventory of her body while she waited for the leftover anesthesia grogginess to fade. Her face still felt strange and numb, disconnected from her control, but an angry throbbing in her jaw drew her attention and she winced, knowing that she would be in a lot more pain once the lidocaine fully wore off.

Her fingers reached gingerly up to her mouth next, investigating something sharp and cold that stabbed her when she probed at it with her tongue. When she realized the stabbing metal she felt was steel wire imprisoning her teeth, Meredith let her hand dropped slowly back into her lap as the purpose of the surgery she had undergone slowly dawned on her.

Meredith knew that wires meant a broken jaw, and broken jaw meant at least six more weeks of being unable to open her mouth wide enough to communicate clearly. She could feel her pulse beginninh to race, the blood throbbing uncomfortably behind her eyes as she struggled to reconcile herself to the new challenges that a broken jaw would add to her already lengthy recovery process. She would be placed on a liquid diet for sure, and depending on how much her oral muscles atrophied from disuse, she might even need to undergo speech and feeding therapy once the wires finally came off.

The ramifications overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to exhale slowly and shakily when she felt the familiar squeeze of anxiety in the pit of her stomach beginning to tighten its hold, refusing to give in to another panic attack.

Propping herself up on her uninjured elbow, Meredith opened her eyes and swept the room with her gaze until she found who the one person who could always seem to calm her fears, no matter how large they loomed. Alex was slumped uncomfortably in his usual spot- the hard, plastic chair near her side. His feet were propped up on the edge of her bed, casually crossed at the ankles, and he had thrown one muscular arm across his eyes in an attempt to block out some the fluorescent ICU lighting.

As always, Meredith felt her galloping pulse slow to a more normal speed when she noticed his presence, so she let her stare linger on his sleeping figure for a moment, trying to soak up as much of his strength she could before turning to Bailey, Jackson, and Callie.

Meredith watched her friends, who were now her doctors, as they stood clustered at the foot of her bed, doing her best to follow their conversation by reading their lips. They seemed to be arguing over something on the monitors; Meredith could see Jackson shaking his head in his petulant way and Callie gesturing emphatically toward her bed in stubborn disagreement with whatever recommendation he had made. But they both stopped talking abruptly once Bailey noticed that their patient was awake.

As Meredith watched, the emotion that had been so obvious on their faces just a moment ago was scrubbed clean, and quickly replaced with a mask of detached professionalism that sent a sharp stab of painful loneliness through her chest. She felt isolated and hurt by their professional formality, and frustrated that they were all treating her as if she were just another patient instead of a friend whom they had known and worked with for years.

Meredith was unused to being on this side of the chart, and she hated it. She felt new empathy for the emotions of her patients as she shifted slightly on the thin mattress, fully covered by a new gown and heavy blankets but still feeling uncomfortable and exposed under the scrutiny of her friends.

Her facial muscles were still too numb to respond to her brain's commands, so she couldn't return the cautious smile Bailey offered as she approached her bed, but she noticed the hope in the group's eyes flicker at her stoicism and felt their disappointment when she failed to answer the questions that she still couldn't hear as as acutely as if it were a physical blow.

Bailey turned away first, hurriedly, tensing her shoulders like she was the one in pain but was determined not to let Meredith know it. Callie didn't even bother trying to hide her disappointment, and Jackson tossed Meredith the kind of smile you would give to a stranger you passed on the sidewalk -politely distant- and somehow, that was worse.

Meredith blinked back stinging tears of loneliness as she watched them resume their argument, discussing her condition right in front of her, as if she were blind as well as deaf. No one offered to show Meredith her chart, or her scans, and no one thought to provide her- an award winning surgeon- with an update on the outcome of her surgery. But most upsettingly to Meredith, no one offered an answer for her most burning question, the one that had been screaming inside her mind for what felt like years: when would her hearing return?

She was beginnjng to fear that she might never be released from this ironclad prison of impenetrable silence. Swallowing hard past the painful lump that constricted her still-raw throat, Meredith leaned back into her pillows, tempted to just give in and let herself be swallowed up by despair.

But a shadow suddenly eclipsed the glare of the overhead lights on her face and she glanced up, startled to find Penny's face hovering over her own once more. Penny's expression was apologetic this time, as she gently prodded at Meredith's mouth with a clean cotton swab, wordlessly asking for permission to check the new wires. But Meredith kept her lips pressed tightly together in defiance, ignoring the metallic taste of the blood that pooled in her mouth when one sharp end of a wire pierced the soft flesh of her inner cheek. She let her eyes bore determinedly back into the redheads', pouring all of her helpless anger and fear and despair into a scalding glare.

She didn't blink, not wavering until she saw a tiny flicker of uncertainty briefly cross Penny's face. Then, encouraged by the small sign of weakness, Meredith pointed emphatically with her good hand to the wall of monitors that were currently blocked from her sight by her friends' backs, demanding to see her chart before she would cooperate.

Penny followed the direction that Meredith's shaky, pulse-ox gripped finger pointed, but she shook her head slowly in response. She looked pale and nervous to be arguing with the woman who owned the entire hospital, but was clearly unsupportive of Meredith's desire.

Meredith felt her grey eyes flash with silver fire at Penny's denial and when her finger angrily stabbed the air again, it was no longer a request; it was a demand. Penny still looked hesitant and slightly fearful, but the force of Meredith's sudden movement shook the bedframe, and eventually her expression of resolve crumpled into one of defeat.

Moving slowly and reluctantly, Penny retrieved a tablet from a table near Bailey and the others. She returned to the side of the bed with it, standing just behind Alex's legs, and swiped through alphabetized CT scans and lab results to find G, for Grey.

Meredith shakily strained to push herself up onto her one good elbow again, heart pounding in trepidation as she squinted at the images Penny held resignedly up for her to see. The redhead scrolled through MRI results, failed hearing tests, CT scans and X-ray films, pausing a few moments on each one to let Meredith stare in mounting horror as she finally understand the totality of the trauma that her body had sustained.

Broken jaw, broken ribs, punctured lung, tracheal bruising, intra-abdominal bleed, grade 2 concussion, barotrauma, eardrum reconstruction surgery, dislocated elbow, a fractured leg and arm repaired with plates and screws... the images melted together before Meredith's eyes, and she briefly thought that Penny had begun to speed through them. But when a drop of hot liquid splashed onto her wrist, she realized that it was just her own burning tears which were blurring her vision.

Penny glanced at her, reproachful but concerned, and Meredith waved her arm weakly toward the tablet, motioning the overwhelming images away. She was relieved when Penny understood her gesture and quickly closed the tablet, at least removing the pictures from her sight even if she knew she would never be able to scrub them from her mind.

Meredith was no stranger to the grim reality of how difficult the recovery from an assault this complete could be. She had sat in a corner of a hospital room after the plane crash that had killed her sister, silently supporting Derek through excruciating sessions of physical therapy that left him grouchy and demoralized.

She had been there for Alex too, after the senseless shooting that had stolen her first pregnancy. She had walked next to him while he took his first shaky steps after surgery, ignoring the breathtaking pain of her miscarriage cramps and letting him squeeze her hand until she thought it might fall off.

And she had walked that rough, dark road herself once before too; when she had decided to fight like hell to keep Derek's last memory of her from being the feeling of her dripping body lying cold and stiff in his arms.

Recovery took strength of will, and detemination, and a drive to hold onto life with white knuckles. Meredith knew all of this, and that knowledge was why she closed her burning eyes in exhaustion. She was ashamed to admit the truth even in the privacy of her own thoughts, but she was not sure that she had any of those things anymore.

She had spent so much of her life broken and fighting through tragedy, and now she was just so tired... so tempted to just give up the fight. Part of her wondered if maybe she would finally find some peace, some wholeness, in letting go.

Meredith did her best to stifle the sob that forced its way past her closed lips, desperate for no one to notice her, wanting just a brief moment of privacy to fall apart. But when she felt the bed bounce as the weight of Alex's feet left it, she knew she hadn't been quiet enough.

He hadn't stirred or reacted at all to the voices of the others or the bustle of activity in the room; he hadn't even shifted when Penny had accidentally stood just a bit too close with the tablet, brushing against the rough fabric of his scrub pants. But the quiet whimper of Meredith's sob roused Alex immediately, and he sat up like a bear coming out of hibernation, fierce and protective once he noticed her tears.

He glanced from Meredith's puffy eyes and dripping nose to Penny's guilty expression and drew an instant connection, surging forward to angle his body protectively between them. Meredith felt his hand begin to rub soothingly up and down her arm, as he threw an accusing glare over his shoulder at Callie.

"Damn it, Torres, what the hell is your girlfriend doing here?" Alex snapped, his voice a low growl of exasperation.

Penny glanced between the two surgeons, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she tried to formulate an explanation that would help defuse the situation. But Alex cut off any defense she had been preparing to give, still speaking only to Callie.

"I want her off this case." He barked furiously. "Do you hear me? The last thing Mer needs right now is someone dredging up bad memories." He punctuated his words with an angry stab of his finger toward the door, ending his outburst with a fierce demand.

"You get her another resident, now!"

Then, his fiery anger smoldering as quickly as it had flared, Alex turned his attention back toward Meredith, ignoring both Callie's heated retort and Miranda's shocked attempt to mediate.

Meredith had argued with Alex enough times over the years to know that he was already done with the conversation when he he pivoted to face her again. She watched his forehead wrinkle in concern, noticing how the deep furrows that appeared in the space between his eyebrows when he frowned made him look years older than his age.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch when one rough hand reached up to clumsily smooth a stray piece of her hair back from where it was plastered to her sweaty forehead.

"I'm sorry, Mer." He murmured inaudible apologies at her as he swiped an errant tear from the bridge of her nose with his thumb, whispering over and over, "I'm so, so sorry."

Meredith had stared during the heated exchange, unable to hear the words exchanged by her friends but gathering from their gestures and facial expressions who it was that Alex blamed for her tears. She thought she had caught one phrase from his lips, three words enunciated clearly and angrily: "off this case." Her guess was confirmed when Penny's face flushed red with emotion and she whirled to stride quickly from the room, tearfully brushing off Callie's hands that reached out to slow her as she passed.

Meredith panted, exhausted from the emotion, and closed her eyes again in a cowardly need to block out Alex and remove herself from the argument she was sure Callie was still voicing loudly to his back. None of this was Penny's fault, Meredith knew; but she still couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for the resident from Dillard. All she felt was a flood of relief that she wouldn't have to stare at her face anymore and pretend that it didn't haunt her worst nightmares.

Meredith had convinced herself that she was strong enough to handle working with the woman whose negligence had contributed to killing her husband. She had thought she could be objective and strong enough to give Penny better training, so that the tragedy of Derek's death would never be repeated. She had wanted to assign to his loss some meaning, a chance to accomplish some karmic good.

But she wasn't strong enough after all, Meredith thought, disgusted by her own weakness. It had been two years since the night she had lost her husband, and still, all she could see when she looked at Penny was Derek's bloodless face. All she could heard in her head every time the other woman opened her mouth were the words that had brought her world crashing off its axis: "I'm so sorry Mrs. Shepherd."

She didn't want to be here, lying in this hospital bed, unable to drown out her thoughts with surgeries and tequila anymore. Meredith felt trapped; forced to relive events that she had spent years trying to keep too busy to remember.

She wanted the pain to be over; she had fought through enough and she was ready to collect her reward. She wanted to hug her kids, to have Sunday waffle mornings with Alex, to stand in the OR holding a scalpel and feel powerful and wise again instead of sobbing helplessly against Alex's shoulder while her friends stared, feeling abandoned and weak and tired.

Where was Derek when she needed him? She thought bitterly,, allowing herself to face an ugly truth that she had been suppressing for a long time, in honor of his memory. Derek had left her long before he went to DC, hos death had only made it permanent.

And where was his sister? Meredith hadn't seen Amelia since that night she'd watched her arguing with Richard outside her room.

Despite Alex's escalating attempts to comfort her, Meredith could feel herself sinking back into her dark and twisty place, retreating far enough within herself to be unaware of his touch or anything else around her. She hadn't been back to this place for years, not since Derek had died; not since Alex had found her, sobbing in another hospital bed in another state with a newborn stranger cradled in her arms.

But the weight of the suffocating silence, the ever- present pain of her injuries- looming so much larger and more daunting now that she had seen her scans- and the buried abandonment that had come back from the dead to haunt her, weighing her down, pulling her back into the familiar darkness.

And she was so tired, Meredith thought desperately. So tempted to stop fighting and just give in.

Driven by that insidious thought, one hand went fumbling frantically across the bed until her clammy palm brushed the cool plastic of the morphine pump that had blessedly reappeared near her leg. Meredith's fingers clutched the little device tightly, hiding it inside her fist, and surreptitiously pressed the button down. As the numbing rush of drugs flooded back into her system with relief, pulling into oblivious slumber, Meredith began to wonder how long she'd have to hold that button down before she could fall asleep and never wake up.


	8. Chapter 8

Warning, Guys, this one turned out Dark! Suicide attempt for Mer in this chapter, so trigger warnings for that, and PTSD, and depression. Good news is, this is rock bottom so there's nowhere for her to go but up! Also, I had to use an alternating POV just for this chapter, sorry if it seems choppy!

Mer's POV

In the end, it was the nightmares that pushed Meredith over the brink. Not the pain, or the harshness of her present reality, but the mental torture of being trapped in a hospital bed, forced to relive every traumatic moment she had ever endured in a perpetual loop, until her tenuous hold on sanity slipped.

As endless hours turned slowly into interminable days, Meredith's mental state eroded further and further. Her mind seemed unable to settle even in sleep; her thoughts raced in chaotic half-dreams while her body lay motionless. From behind closed eyelids, she watched helplessly as her memories replayed in her mind like a self-starring horror movie.

Meredith saw her mother labeling her she a disappointment, and then cruelly dying- one final act of abandonment- without a chance to soften her gutting last criticism.

She watched herself drowning, disappearing silently beneath the freezing water of the Sound.

She witnessed George, shattered and bloodied beyond recognition, tracing the moniker "007' in her palm; and then herself jumping between Derek and a loaded gun, blood trickling down her legs as she lost their baby.

She was suddenly back in a failing plane again, hurtling toward treetops at a terrifying speed, hearing Lexi's labored breathing and Arizona's screams of shock echoing shrilly through her mind.

She was standing in the middle of an unfamiliar hospital, watching through bitter tears as Derek's chest slowly stopped rising and falling, and an unfeeling stranger in drab green scrubs turned off her husbands life support and pulled the tube too quickly from his throat.

And finally, she was back in Trauma 3, staring into Lou's glazed and empty eyes, feeling him wrap his big hands around her throat and squeeze, until the blood vessels in her eyes burst and she struggled even for breath.

Meredith held on for as long as she could, until the flashbacks became too intense for her to bear any longer and the line between memory and reality started to blur; then she pressed the button that had become her coping mechanism. But even that had begun to fail her the past few days. Someone must have noted her overuse of the magic button and lowered her dosage, she thought dully. Because now it took twice as long before enough morphine built up in her system to carry her away from the memories.

Since she still wouldn't be able to see her children for a while longer, the only bright spot left in Meredith's world was Alex. He came to visit often; nearly every time she opened her eyes he was slumped in that same chair near her bed. He was always wearing the same wrinkled clothes as the day before, looking as disheveled as if he had fought his way through the zombie apocalypse and then hadn't bothered to shower afterward.

She spied on him through half- closed eyelids, noting with unbearable guilt how haggard he looked, and how often he cried when he thought she was asleep. The dark circles under Alex's eyes betrayed his exhaustion, but he always found the energy to look up and offer Meredith an encouraging smile when he noticed her staring.

He brought new drawings and trinkets from the kids every day, taping their artwork up on every wall until Meredith thought that her room was beginning to look like a children's art museum. She had smiled through tears when she first saw Zola's shaky, misspelled handwriting telling her to "Git Betar Sune" and Bailey's picture of a potato with legs that was labelled "Mommy". But once Alex left to go pick her kids up from daycare, and there was nothing to distract her from her dark thoughts any longer, Meredith's smile was replaced with tears of shame at the thought of Zola and Bailey and little Ellis visiting and seeing her this way: so weak and broken.

They deserved better than she'd had growing up, Meredith thought sadly; they deserved a Mommy who was bright and shiny. She didn't want her children to know this version of her: dark and twisty and overwhelmed by an endless mental parade of horrors. If this was the best she could do, she thought, her stomach lurching with misguided certainty, if this was the best she could be for them, then they would be better off without her. Meredith stifled a sob, feeling selfish and ashamed and afraid of the dark possibilities that filled her mind next, but she also felt hopeless and weary and desperate enough to believe they were her only way out.

A few nights later, Alex sat alone in the darkness of Meredith's room as she slept, listening to the silence of the ICU and finding it almost peaceful. Some people liked to sit in their back yards, listening to crickets chirping and watching fireflies at the end of a long day, but he had never been one of them. The soft chirping of various monitors across the ICU floor was his cricket song, and the flickering of the fluorescent lights over his head were his fireflies; Alex always found their predictable familiarity far more reassuring than the changeable nature.

He exhaled in a long sigh, releasing a fraction of the constant tension that seemed now permanently coiled in his muscles, and scraping absently at the itchy new facial hair that was slowly inching past scruffy and moving squarely into bearded territory. His teeth felt fuzzy when he ran his tongue over them, and his mouth tasted sour; he knew it had been far too long since he had showered or shaved or brushed his teeth. He was just too afraid to leave Meredith any more than he absolutely had to.

Alex had a feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach, that urged him not to let her out of his sight. And although he had never been superstitious, he found that he couldn't convince himself to ignore it. It was a sense of queasy foreboding that he couldn't shake- because Mer had felt it before, back in their intern days, when there had been a bomb that nearly killed her. And because he'd felt it before too; two years ago now.

He had been called back to the hospital during Derek's wake, for an appendectomy patient who was experiencing post op complications. And when he had gone to find Mer to let her know that he was leaving and that he'd be back in a few hours, he had felt it creeping slowly in- this same nameless dread that filled his gut now. He had ignored it then, because he'd had no alternative; and when he'd come back, it had been too late. Meredith and the kids had vanished into the night, leaving him with nothing but one handwritten line scrawled hastily onto a cocktail napkin.

It had been nearly a year before he had found Meredith again, and the fact that she had forgotten he was still listed as her emergency contact was an accident that he privately considered his own personal miracle- a belated apology from the universe for all of the crap it had put him through for the past 45 years. He had known better than to push Meredith to talk; he had read the fragility she had done her best to hide behind a shaky smile as soon as he'd walked through the door of her labor and delivery room in San Diego, and decided to give her space and time before asking for an explanation. But she had never offered him any information about that lost time, and Alex had never asked; too afraid that he might accidentally press too far and send her running again.

All he knew was that Meredith had broken him, in some deep, internal way that he wasn't self aware enough to understand; all he knew was that he wouldn't survive the pain of living without her for a second time. So he determined that this time, he would listen to the unexplainable feeling, and stay.

Now, staring pensively at Meredith's sleeping form, Alex mused darkly to himself that she'd had a rough couple of days since the surgery. And although he was reluctant even to entertain the terrifying thought, he was beginning to worry that he might be losing her all over again- just in a different way. He knew that running was what Meredith Grey did when she was overwhelmed. She had learned it from her mom, but it was reflex that Alex thoroughly understood as well- along with the thought process that preceded it-because he did the same thing.

Meredith might be unable to physically run now, but he had been feeling her pull away from him just the same lately, mentally disassociating herself from everything and everyone around her. And the pain medication... he glared at the innocuous little button clenched tightly in her hand like it was a poisonous snake instead of an inanimate object, tempted to throw it onto the tile floor and grind it into bits under his heel. As much as he had tried to reason it away, Alex couldn't escape the nagging fear that Meredith might be overusing the morphine, taking advantage of its sedative effect to escape the intensity of a situation she didn't want to face.

He had been reluctant to admit that his fears might have some footing in reality, so it had taken him awhile after confessing them privately to Jo before he had decided to act. But eventually, he had spoken to Bailey; and together they had adjusted Meredith's dosage, slightly lessening the amount that the pump was set to meter out each time it was pressed. But even still, he worried

A soft chime from the hospital's overhead comm system suddenly interrupted his mental spiral, announcing the midnight shift change. When he heard the gentle whoosh of the door sliding open behind him, Alex covered his fears in a friendly smile and turned to nod a greeting to Meredith's night nurses as they entered the room.

"You're up late, Alex. How is she tonight?" A tall blond woman that he knew as Ashley greeted him cheerfully, and he smiled tightly in return to her warm expression, acknowledging her and her companion by name.

"Hi, Ashley. Sarah. Yeah, another long night with the kids." He sighed. "I just got here an hour ago and she's been asleep the whole time."

Alex recognized all of Meredith's nurses now; he was here so much that they were all on a first name basis, and he had even come to look forward to the light conversation they shared each time one came in to check on Mer's vitals or her tube output, or to change a bandage. It had become a welcome distraction from the unrelenting weight of his stress and anxiety.

Ashley smiled brightly at him from Meredith's side as she logged into the computer near the bed and lifted her patient's arm, scanning the thin, plastic ID bracelet that Meredith wore around her wrist into the system to access her chart. Alex watched as Meredith began to stir from the movement, waking completely when Sarah gently folded the warm blankets back from her body to examine her healing incisions, allowing cold air to rush in.

When Meredith's groggy gaze found his, Alex leaned forward to offer her a closed- lipped smile, like usual, resting one hand on her thigh in reassurance while the nurses continued their exam. The women chatted kindly to her as they worked, but Meredith just laid there, miserable and unresistant, not even trying to follow their conversation. She kept her eyes fixed on some random point on the ceiling, and Alex noticed with a frown that her eyelids looked red and puffy, as if she had been crying while he was gone. He was so caught up in his growing concern, that it was only when Sarah's light tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the present, that he noticed for the first time the cart of catheterization supplies the nurses had wheeled in with them.

"We're about to check her catheters, Alex. Maybe you'd like to step out for a minute." Sarah suggested kindly. "Go get some fresh air, or grab a coffee? We'll only take a few minutes, I promise."

Alex's first instinct was to blatantly refuse to leave the room. The idea of leaving Meredith alone right then terrified him even though he couldn't quantify the reason why, making his heart race and his palms sweat; and after all, he thought wryly, there was no concern for modesty between the two of them. He could remember a frustrated Meredith ripping open the shower curtain one morning while he was washing his hair to yell at him for not listening to her rant; and another time, when she had barged into the bathroom to pee while he was shaving, claiming she couldn't make it even just down the hall because she had birthed two kids and ruined her bladder. But the amused smile that the memories had brought to his lips faded when he glanced over at Meredith. Something in the grim set of her lips and the nervous way her fingers plucked at the bedsheets changed his mind, making him nod slowly in reluctant agreement.

"Ok. I'll be right back, Mer." He said, giving her leg one last squeeze before pushing his chair back from the bed and standing up to stretch his aching back. As the door whispered shut behind him and he started toward the attending's lounge to make a pot of bad coffee, Alex took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to convince himself that everything would be fine.

Meredith watched Alex's back as he walked away, trying to distract herself from the way the catheter burned when her nurse pulled it out, and the similar burning of shame that flushed her cheeks. She was so engrossed in feeling mortified that she couldn't even walk to the bathroom on her own, that she didn't realize she was crying until her pillowcase felt damp against her face. When another nurse whose name she hadn't bothered to learn noticed her tears and leaned into her line of sight to offer her a sympathetic smile and a tissue, Meredith made no move to accept either gesture. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, waiting until they finished their tasks and left her alone in her room before she opened them again.

The intensity of the despair and hopelessness that she could still feel flushing her cheeks coupled with a desperation to never endure such humiliation again, clouded her reason. Inflated emotions replaced rational thought, and drove her actions to a dangerous brink, sending her hand moving slowly across the bed almost before she was conscious of what she was doing. Without giving herself a chance to think, afraid that she would be too weak to go through with it if she did, Meredith carefully lifted the blankets off of her legs to slip the morphine pump down into a narrow crack between her mattress and the guardrail of her bed, wedging it in further and further until the tightness of the small space depressed the button and held it in place, continuously dispensing. The drugs dripped slowly into her veins this time, like a gentle rain instead of a surging current, but she could feel their effects nonetheless, already softening the sharp edges of reality. With a trembling exhale of relief, Meredith carefully readjusted her blankets to cover what she had done and laid back against her pillows to wait. Soon she would be with Derek. Soon it would all be over.

Settled against the cushions of a couch in the attending's lounge, Alex glanced at his watch. It had only been 15 minutes; he wondered if that was long enough to give Mer her privacy. With a sigh, he decided to wait 5 more before starting back to Meredith's room. He wrapped his hands more tightly around his cardboard cup of bitter, hospital coffee, letting the welcome warmth seep into his bones, but his patience didn't last the full 5 minutes.

After what he knew was probably closer to two minutes, Alex stood and headed briskly toward the elevators. He heard the shrill shrieking as soon as the elevator stopped at the ICU and its heavy doors creaked open to let him out. A patient monitor at the nurses' station was announcing a code, and he could feel his heart leap into his throat at the sound. Even though he told himself that the code could be for any one of the many patients on this floor, Alex ran the rest of the way to Meredith's room at a barely restrained sprint, unable to ignore gnawing sense of dread that insisted this had something to do with his unexplainable feeling.

A wide-eyed intern pushed past him as he reached her door, and when he caught a glimpse of the pandemonium unfolding inside, time seemed suddenly move in slow motion. the code had been for her; every monitor in her room was shrieking, sending the piercing sound of panic reverberating through his body until he could feel it pounding in his temples like a second pulse. This is hell, he thought, frozen in stunned disbelief. I left for 15 minutes and died, and this must be hell.

Alex felt his feet carrying him forward of their own accord, as if his body belonged to someone else, until he was standing in the middle of the room, close enough to stare in unblinking shock at Meredith's plummeting oxygen saturation. As he watched, the numbers on the monitor fell lower and lower.

97.

85.

70.

64.

50.

She's bradycardic, he thought, numb with horror, listening to her heart monitor beeping irregularly. Meredith was barely breathing; Alex couldn't even make out a rise and fall of her chest. The only indication that she was still clinging to life were garbled snoring sounds that rumbled loudly from her throat with each slow, labored inhalation. As he stared helplessly, her lips began to take on a blueish hue, and he distantly heard Ashley shout,

"...cyanotic!" as she fitted an oxygen mask over Meredith's face. The trauma team ignored him, standing like a shell- shocked statue in the center of the room, working around him without comment. The bright smiles and friendly small talk from just moments before had been replaced by stern focus, and grim expressions and clipped orders. Alex winced as he watched Sarah rub a knuckle over Mer's sternum, hard, checking for response to painful stimuli.

"Unresponsive." She reported to the resident he suddenly saw come flying into the room, clearly in answer to a 911 page they must have sent while he was gone. "42-year-old female, 3 days post op from jaw wiring, 1-week post op from intra-abdominal lac repair and lung patch. On a self-regulated morphine drip for pain, presented bradycardic 5 minutes ago and is currently cyanotic and unresponsive to painful stimuli." She continued, looking to the 20 something year old doctor for how to proceed.

"O2 sats and blood pressure are bottoming out," The resident gulped, glancing quickly at Meredith's screaming monitors, "her organs are shutting down."

He turned to Alex then, abruptly acknowledging his presence for the first time to ask, "Dr. Karev. Does Dr. Grey have any drug allergies that maybe weren't recorded?"

Alex shook his head in mute response, unable to hold back the hot, angry tears that blurred his vision any longer. This wasn't a drug allergy, he thought darkly; it was a drug overdose. When eyes fell on his person's empty right hand, he knew immediately that he was right.

"The pump." He managed to choke out as the room tilted sideways. "It's an overdose; find the morphine pump!"

He could feel the blood draining from his face and nausea churning violently in his stomach as the appalling certainty of Meredith's actions crashed over him like a tidal wave, ripping the solid ground out from under his feet and sending him tumbling helplessly on waves of horror and fear.

Ashley's eyes met his and she froze for a moment as she took in his words, her own face blanching nearly as pale as Alex's. Then her hands were a hurricane of activity again, tearing the blankets off of Meredith's limp body, lifting limbs and pillows, searching for the insidious device. When she pulled it from where it had been hidden, wedged between Mer's mattress and the railing of her bed, continuously dispensing, Alex's knees buckled. He sank to the cold tile floor, the room swimming before his eyes.

He was barely clinging to consciousness, only dimly aware of an intern running past him shouting "...Naloxone!".

He didn't see Sarah remove Meredith's oxygen mask to spray the drug up her nostrils, but he heard her wheezing gasp as her body jackknifed upright on the bed, dragged back into consciousness by the lifesaving medications, and wrenched her incisions and broken limbs painfully in the process.

Alex dropped his head down between his knees as much to dispel the dizziness as to avoid seeing Meredith's face contorted in pain as every millilitre of medication in her system was coated in the Narcan, allowing the full impact of the pain of her cumulative injuries to slam into her at once; but he couldn't block out her screams. They filled the room, gut wrenching and louder than all the monitors, swirling around him for what felt like hours.

But he couldn't move, couldn't react, until Meredith finally blacked out, unable to withstand the pain any longer. In the ringing quiet that followed, Ashley crouched in front of him and he forced himself to tune into the tail end of her calm explanation.

"... Somehow the pump must slipped out of her hand while she was sleeping and gotten wedged in a crack between the mattress and railing of the bed, creating an accidental overdose." She was saying, voice soft and eyes sympathetic. "Alex. Dr. Karev, did you hear me?" She repeated herself when Alex didn't respond.

"She wasn't down long; I don't anticipate any deficits, but we paged neuro to do a check anyway. We administered naloxone and were able to revive her, but when she comes to again she will be in excruciating pain, and we won't be able to give her anything for at least an hour, and even then no more opioids. That can be hard to watch, so you should either prepare yourself or consider going home for a few hours." The kind nurse paused to study his face, waiting for him to react to her words, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder when he didn't move or blink.

"I'm so sorry, Alex." She consoled him softly. "I just don't know how this happened."

As soon as he heard Ashley's footsteps fading behind him and saw the unfamiliar resident who had run the code follow her, casting a last pitying glance back in his direction, Alex leaned over and vomited onto the floor. The bitter coffee he had swallowed just a few minutes before came violently back up, stinging his throat as he heaved over and over. But even after there was nothing left in his stomach, Alex still felt ill; because he knew exactly how this had happened. And he knew it wasn't an accident.


	9. Chapter 9

The last thing Meredith remembered was closing her eyes on the world around her for what she thought would be the last time, feeling her heart rate gradually slow and her mind begin one final descent into the waiting embrace of peaceful emptiness.

She hadn't paused to consider the possibility of anyone finding her before it was too late, so when the Naloxone dragged her roughly back into consciousness her saphire eyes flew wide open, confused and unprepared. The comforting blanket of morphine that had kept the agony at bay had been stripped away from her, and now the searing touch of pain was all she knew. It raced through her veins like fire, sizzling every nerve ending so intensely that it claimed every ounce of her awareness.

Meredith fought to force her mind past the agony, desperate to understand what had happened to her peace and why she was suddenly back under the blinding hospital lights again, jackknifed over her knees and struggling for each burning breath, feeling hot blood trickle down her sides from where the harsh movement had ripped fresh stitches open again.

Through a haze of tears, she caught a flash of blue scrubs and rightly guessed that the blurred shadows she could just barely make out through her watery eyes must be nurses. She felt their hands encircle her spasming limbs like vises, stilling her with their weight and securing her to the bed. But none of the shadows took pity on her, no one offered her any respite from the fire that raged through her body, consuming her from the inside out. All she could do was scream- until her strength and her voice finally gave out and the world faded to black again.

After that first awakening, time became an abstract thing to Meredith; it seemed to slip through her grasp like sand in an endless burning desert, and she was lost in it.

She hovered in semi-consciousness for what could have been minutes or years, while her mind floated detached and distant from her surroundings, longing to return to the escape of sleep but unable to completely untether itself from the ballast of her battered body. Instead, she drifted through jumbled half-dreams, suspended somewhere between waking and sleeping until her mind dragged her back into consciousness for a second time, depositing her awareness abruptly back into her body.

She was drenched in sweat, Meredith realized gradually, curled up into as tight of a ball as her broken limbs and bulky bandages would allow. Her cheeks were hot and flushed with fever, yet she still shivered uncontrollably- both from the cold wind of the ac vent above her bed that dried her sweat into a salty crust on her skin, and the sudden systemic shock of forced morphine withdrawal.

Meredith noted automatically that her leg had been removed from traction while she was out, and thought that it must have been propped up on the extra pillows that now laid scattered across the floor around her bed, displaced by her fevered thrashing. She tried to take advantage of the opportunity for a greater range of motion by shifting gingerly onto her side, but even the slight motion caused her stomach to churn with immediate nauseas. Groaning softly, Meredith clutched her tumultuous abdomen with her undamaged arm , closing her eyes and breathing deeply until her body to revised its command to vomit back into just a suggestion.

Meredith's whole body felt wrecked; every muscle and joint ached with exhaustion. But in the absence of the drugs, her mind felt clear again, like the world was beginning to come gradually back into focus. Her thoughts still came more slowly than before, but she was immeasurably relieved to find that they no longer flitted frustratingly out of reach, dematerializing as soon as she tried to latch on to one.

But just like in all of her life, any positive effects Meredith discovered were quickly overcome by one big negative. The gratutide she felt at her return to cognition was short- lived, lasting only for the space of a breath; then the tsunami wave of two weeks' worth of sedative- repressed emotions hit, crashing back into her consciousness with a staggering force that made her wish the mental fog back again. But it didn't come; and without the escape of the morphine pump, there was nothing she could do but sit there and feel.

With no other option, Meredith finally stopped fighting and let the anger that she couldn't suppress any longer bubble up inside her chest until it spilled over into great, heaving sobs of overwhelming rage. Too exhausted to care who might see her through the uncovered windows of her room, Meredith wept for a long time.

She sobbed because it wasn't fair that the universe kept deciding to punish her over and over again.

She sobbed because she was outraged that Lou had been able to attack her at all; and she sobbed because if it weren't for a petty argument, Amelia might have been there to warn her that Lou was awake, and maybe even to prevent these past two weeks of living hell.

But mostly, Meredith sobbed because she was incensed with herself both for failing in her attempt to end her miserable life, and somehow simultaneously for being weak enough to make the decision to try in the first place.

She wept until her tears devolved into coughs and she was suddenly no longer crying, but hyperventilating; panicked, she realized that the wires that secured her jaw also prevented her from opening her mouth wide enough to catch her breath. Without warning, her coughs graduated to gags, and the nausea that had been roiling threateningly in the pit of her stomach crept up her throat as she heaved over the side of the bed.

But the bile that filled her mouth didn't come splashing down onto the floor like she expected, instead it pooled on her tongue, trapped behind her teeth like floodwaters behind a dam, and she was choking on it, breathing it in.

Dizzy from panic and lack of oxygen, Meredith ripped at her face with her one good hand, leaving deep stinging gashes on her lips from her fingernails as she scrabbled desperately against the inflexible metal wires that imprisoned her teeth.

Just as Meredith's vision began to fade and she felt her body go limp, pitching forward out of the bed, there were suddenly slender arms wrapping around her from behind, stopping her fall and holding back her hair.

She managed to crack her eyes open just enough to see that it was one of her night nurses- Ashley, her name tag read- who was crouched on the ground in front of her. Meredith felt the woman force one gloved finger into her mouth, stretching her cheek painfully out and away from her teeth to create a path for the vomit to drain.

Relieved, Meredith retched her stomach was empty, bringing up only small mouthfuls of clear TPN liquid. Once her body stopped its convulsing, she hung limply for a moment, gasping grateful gulps of air. The arms supporting her from behind waited patiently for her breathing to slow before they pulled her back onto the bed, carefully repositioning her broken limbs.

When after a shaky moment Meredith had gathered enough strength to turn her head, she found the second nurse she had seen Alex conversing with- Sarah- staring compassionately back at her, eyes full of open concern. But rather than appreciating their kindness, Meredith resented every gesture, feeling shame rise in her chest and color her cheeks red. She swallowed hard, turning her face guiltily away from Sarah to hide in her pillow lumpy pillow, unable to accept the compassion that she felt she didn't deserve.

Her nurses didn't know what she had done; Meredith was certain of that. Because if they had, she was equally certain that they wouldn't be able even to look at her, much less to offer her the kind of warm smile that Ashley did as she scrubbed vomit out of her scrubs with paper towels from the adjoinjng bathroom.

All Meredith could do was close her eyes to block out their faces, feeling so despicable and ashamed that she almost wished they did know, just so she wouldn't have to carry the burden of such a disgraceful secret alone.

A gentle tap made her turn her head wearily to stare dully up into Ashley's face, watching her lips carefully enunciate the words she used to explain her condition. They had taken her morphine pump away and she was in withdrawal, Meredith learned without surprise. She was still a surgeon, and she had guessed this information almost the first moment she had woken up, long before she had read the words on Ashley's lips.

They were also switching her to a non-opioid intravenous painkiller, she gathered, her brain automatically jumping to supply a probable name- Offirmev. Meredith knew that this type of drug she would be administered every six hours by one of her nurses, and only after scanning her ID bracelet each time, to ensure that she received the correct dosage from now on.

She watched as Ashley attached a syringe to her IV lock and pushed the first dose through her central line, waiting eagerly for cold relief to hit her bloodstream. But it never came. Ofirmev was essentially just intravenous Tylenol; Meredith knew this, so she was disappointed but not surprised when it did nothing to alleviate her pain.

She didn't mind, she thought darkly, she was glad to feel pain, glad to suffer. She told herself that she deserved to pay that penance for the moment of weakness which had almost left her children orphans.

After that, Meredith waited impassively, with every muscle clenched and her eyes squeezed tightly shut, for her nurses to finish their tasks and mercifully leave her alone again. And once they finally did, despite the constant throb of her crying- induced migraine and the tumult of her jumbled thoughts, Meredith managed to fall into a restless sleep.

Alex came in the middle of the next night, storming into her room and shaking her roughly awake, seemingly unmoved by the fear that flared briefly in her eyes when they flew open at the unexpected contact, or the startled gasp that escaped her chapped lips.

Usually Meredith could recognize Alex's presence beside her without even needing to see his face. He was home to her; over their nearly two decades of friendship, her body had quietly memorized the exact pressure of his touch, and learned the heady scent of cologne and beer and surgical soap and sweat that mingled together into something uniquely him.

But tonight, he was unfamiliar and frightening. The usual gentle warmth in his touch was missing, replaced by a harsh heat that made her flinch away from the contact in surprised discomfort. Even the smell of him was wrong and unbalanced: all stale sweat and alcohol and vomit, and not like Alex at all.

He looked wrecked, Meredith thought as her eyes struggled to focus on his face, hovering much too close to hers. His eyes shone in the darkness of her room, wild and burning with an anger that she had seen years ago but had never been the target of before. She shuddered under the weight of its scorching intensity, interpreting the meaning of the hurt and terror and fury in his gaze with a sinking heart.

He knew.

Ashamed, Meredith turned her head away, dropping Alex's gaze as if the fire it contained had the power to burn her retinas as well as her soul. She was weak and cowardly, she knew, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes anymore; she was too afraid that he might read the horrible guilt written in her own.

But it didn't matter; Alex knew her as well as she knew him, and though no words were uttered, her avoidance of his stare was more than answer enough.

He straightened abruptly in the silence, stumbling back from Meredith's bed as if she had punched him. She couldn't hear the indignant words that he shouted at her, but that didn't matter either, she didn't need to; she knew him too.

Alex paced and yelled at her, and Meredith let him, ignoring the alarmed stares of the staff that gathered outside her glass door, and shaking her head in denial of the offer when a stranger gestured to the button that would call security.

Meredith ignored them all, fixed her gaze on the little vein throbbing in Alex's left temple- the same one that always stood out when he was upset- and just let him release the volcano of pent up emotions that now exploded like molten lava.

They both knew there was nothing she could say that would ever make this right, no apology that could ever fix what she had almost done. So, Meredith didn't even try, she just laid there silently, unflinching under the barrage of Alex's pain until the anger leaked slowly out of him and he collapsed into the chair by her side, like a deflated balloon.

Spent, Alex let his head fall forward against her legs. And when her bed began to shake along with his shoulders from the force of his wracking sobs, Meredith cried too, viscerally regretting every ounce of the hurt and betrayal that hung palpably between them.

In that quivering moment, suspended by a breath, she felt her own anger drain away, leaving behind only a chilling relief that the morphine had failed, and an unspeakable gratitude that she was still here- with him.

Meredith stretched one shaky hand toward Alex's shoulder tentatively, wanting to absorb his grief with her touch, remembering all the times he had done just that for her.

There was one cold winter night that was years behind them now but was still as vividly preserved in her memories as if it had been yesterday. She had stormed out of the hospital after losing a patient, and Alex had followed her into the snow. He had unflinchingly taken the brunt of the fists and the words that she had hurled at him like weapons, intentionally sharp and really meant for Derek, who wasn't there. Alex was though; and he had wrapped his arms around Meredith and squeezed, refusing to pull away no matter how hard she had pushed.

She desperately wanted to offer the same comfort to him now, but her fingers had barely ghosted the sleeve of his dirty t-shirt before Alex jerked angrily away from her, swiping a hand roughly over his face as he stood up, and breaking her heart with his haste to put unfamiliar distance between them.

Meredith could feel the last look of betrayal that he cast her way before leaving the room slice through her heart like a scalpel; the gaping hole his gaze left there throbbed much more painfully than any of her physical incisions. But all she could do was watch Alex's retreating back helplessly through her tears as he turned and sprinted toward the elevators, leaving her as alone as she had nearly left him.


	10. Chapter 10

Alex's footsteps echoed loudly through the deserted hallways of the hospital as he ran toward the exit, desperate to escape the huge building that seemed suddenly too small, and the walls that were slowly closing in, suffocating him.

He kept his head down and his gaze trained on the floor to avoid making accidental eye contact with any of the shocked night staff that he flew past, reluctant for them to catch a glimpse of his red face and bloodshot eyes, or the raw emotion that he couldn't hide from his expression no matter how hard he tried, and connect him to the one-sided shouting that he was sure they must have heard.

Alex's mind raced in time with his feet; his thoughts were incoherent and tangled in their rapidity as they spiraled through memories of the past, reminding him of all the other times this place had brought pain into his life- or into Mer's life.

Cristina had been right, he thought to himself bitterly, all those years ago, when she had called it Seattle Grace Mercy Death. Alex knew she had been joking when she had said it, but he had immediately seen her deapan statement for what it was: just a feeble attempt to mask harsh reality with their own special brand of morbid humor. And she hadn't realized how prophetic he pronouncement would become, Alex thought darkly.

The board had re-named the hospital since the last time he had seen Cristina. It had been Mer's idea, and he knew she had been trying for a tribute, a fresh start; but even the new title was steeped in tragedy- a memoir for Lexie and Mark, who had been victims themselves of the curse that plagued this building.

And this place was cursed; with every year that passed by, Alex grew more deeply convinced of that. He might be required to refer to the hospital as Grey Sloan Memorial for his patients, but it would always be Seattle Grace Mercy Death to him.

A few years ago, Alex had come so close to finally escaping from it all, so close to accepting a far more prestigious position at Hopkins...but he had known even before Mer had shown up at the airport and embarrassed him by yelling in public that he wouldn't be getting on that plane. In the end, he couldn't leave without her. In the end, the prospect not having Mer in his life scared him far more than any curse.

Mer...

Her name lingered even after the thought that had brought it flitted away. It echoed through Alex's mind, bringing with it unwelcome images of his best friend's face the day before: slack jawed and drooling in unconsciousness, hypoxic lips trembling with each increasingly shallow breath. He could still hear that telltale, rumbling snore- so loud it had carried into the hallway- that had sent his stomach plummeting through his feet and announced that she was an OD patient even before he'd stepped across the threshold of her room.

Alex felt his skin crawling at just the memory and he forced his legs to pump faster, gasping in relief when he burst through the doors of the exit and gulped deep, cleansing lungfuls of the damp night air. He slumped against the wall behind him, feeling the rough stucco dig painfully into his back through the thin material of his t-shirt, but not caring. His rapid pants gradually slowed as he caught his breath, but his mind did not, it kept galloping on.

He should go back in, he thought suddenly, as a fresh surge guilt clenched his stomach in an iron fist. But now that all of his frantic energy was spent, Alex couldn't force his quivering muscles to move anymore; and he found he didn't want to.

He couldn't do it, he thought desperately, he couldn't bring himself to face Mer right then; not when every time he looked at her his imagination supplied the ending of the worst case scenario that they had only narrowly avoided. Not when he couldn't go five minutes without envisioning how small Meredith's still, cold body would look in an open coffin, or how hard it would be for him to keep breathing while he tightly gripped her children's hands- his time at her grave-side instead of Derek's.

Alex heaved a shuddering sigh, dragging one hand shakily down his face and scratchy beard as if he could wipe the thoughts away along with the tears he hadn't realized he was crying.

It was the tears that he couldn't seem to control that finally brought him to a decision. Although he felt weak and cowardly and ashamed to admit it to himself, he knew couldn't go in there and try to comfort Meredith while he was still unraveling, fraying at the edges from what she had nearly done. He would fall apart, and the last thing she needed was to have the burden of his angst added to her own.

Alex told himself that Meredith was sick and that he shouldn't make her actions personal; he told himself not to be selfish and make the situation that was clearly a cry for help all about him- he told himself all of the right things, but he couldn't listen to his own advice.

Because it damn sure felt personal.

Mer was his person; she had reminded him petulantly of that fact at the airport when she had begged him not leave her.

She had called them the last two standing, but then she had left him; like she had made him promise never to do to her- like everyone else in his life.

Alex was accustomed to being abandoned; he had a painful track record spanning 30 years of his life that had conditioned him to expect that everyone he loved would disappear at some point. But he had thought that Meredith was different.

Against his better judgement he had given in to her persistent kindness, letting her gradually break down his walls and force her way into his heart until one day he had woken up and realized that she had become his safe space and that wherever she was felt like home.

But two times in as many years, Mer had dredged up remnants of the traumatic past he had thought he'd finally overcome and outgrown; first with her midnight flight to San Diego, and now with last night's suicide attempt that had left him unable to even look at her; because when he did, the pain took his breath away.

With a guttural growl of frustration, Alex pulled his arm back and slammed his fist hard against the unrelenting wall, relishing the release that the physical discomfort offered from his mental agony. Warm blood trickled slowly from his split knuckles and he panted as he watched it fall onto the concrete at his feet, staining the pavement red.

But the respite was too brief.

What Alex could feel now, splitting him wide open at the seams, was a whole new kind of pain; it incapacitated him, and no matter how many six packs of cheap beer he had tried to drown it in earlier, or how many more times he violently punched the drywall, it persisted, only getting louder the longer he tried to silence it.

He knew that the reason he was hurting more than he had ever hurt before was that Mer meant more to him than anyone he had ever known. She was more to him than Izzie and Yang and his parents and siblings and Ava/Rebecca put together.

So no, Alex decided, as he clutched his now throbbing hand to his chest; he couldn't sit by Mer's bed and smile at her and say he understood, because he didn't understand. He doubted he would ever understand, because there was nothing on this earth that could tear him away from her or those kids.

When the doors on his right parted suddenly, he jumped, extricated from his heavy thoughts by the chatter of a small cluster of residents walking outside on their lunch break. Alex sighed heavily as they invaded his solitude with their open stares and curious whispers, knowing witj dread that his meltdown would be all over the hospital tomorrow.

He had no desire to stay there and serve as a sideshow for their amusement, so with a grunt of effort he pushed himself wearily off of the wall he had sagged against and forced his tired legs back into a jog- this time toward the parking lot- eager to distance himself from the memories, from this place, and from Meredith.

He'd come back eventually, he knew; because she was the sun, and he was forever caught in her orbit. He knew this, but tonight he ran anyway; just like Mer had, trying to escape the pain and abandonment that had followed him all of his life.

Alex drove aimlessly around the city for hours before winding up at the same place he always landed after a hard day- at Joe's getting drunk.

It was nearly 4 am and the bar was closing before Alex dragged himself away from his 3 pitchers of beer and his 4th shot of tequila- Don Jose, of course- in Mer's honor.

His phone had been vibrating in his pocket every few minutes since he had left the hospital, and it buzzed again in his hand when he stumbled out into the parking lot and pulled it out to call an uber, but when he saw Jo's smiling face fill the screen he ignored the call.

Alex didn't know what he would tell his girlfriend if he answered. It was her day off, but he had no doubt that she had already heard about the scene he had made in Mer's room. Word travelled fast at Mercy Death, he thought bitterly, and Jo was smart. She would put his breakdown together with his whispered confession from a few days earlier and realize that Meredith's overdose wasn't an accident.

She would want to help, but Alex wasn't ready. He couldn't have a conversation with Jo about his feelings or next steps, not when he couldn't even stand to think of Mer's name without numbing his brain with as much alcohol as he could hold and still feeling like vomiting all of it back up again.

When they arrived at the loft, he drunkenly tipped his driver what through his double vision could have been 5 dollars or 50. Then he stumbled noisily up the narrow staircase, tripping several times in the dark.

When he finally managed to get his key straight in the lock and pull the sliding front door open, Alex saw Jo's sillouhette hunched over an empty wine glass at their dining table, clearly waiting up for him. The sight was touching, even through the lingering haze of tequila clouding his mind, and Alex felt an unpleasant pang of guilt for making her worry.

Jo whirled around when the door slammed behind him harder than he had intended, startled by the sudden bang that it sent reverberating through the thin walls of their dilapidated apartment. She looked shocked by his arrival at first, but as he watched, expressions flickered across her face like rapidly changing channels on a tv, flittting from relief to worry before settling on anger. Her amber eyes darkened with both frustration and concern as she took in Alex's bloodshot eyes and the slight unsteadiness in his bearing that betrayed how the room seemed to sway unless he slouched against the doorway.

"What the hell, Alex?" she snapped at him, her voice clipped and exasperated, standing up from her chair so quickly that it clattered onto the floor.

The sound seemed jarring in the early morning hush that blanketed the city, and Alex winced as it assaulted his head which was already beginning to pound with the aching start of a nasty hangover.

"Are you drunk?" Jo asked him, her plump top lip curled in what looked like digust as she continued. "I've been calling you for hours, what-"

She started to question him, probably intending to ask what he'd been thinking, or what had happened to make him show up this way- sweaty and drunk and smelling like hospital floor and vomit. But Alex didn't let her finish.

The sight of Jo, flushed with anger, barefaced and casual in one of his old t-shirts stirred something deep within his stomach, and he suddenly wanted her, needed her.

Alex crossed the floor in two stumbling strides, letting his lips crash against hers roughly, nipping and kissing with an intensity driven by a need for closeness, and a desperation not to be alone.

Jo gasped in surprise, and he drove his tongue deeper when he felt her mouth part under his own, letting it dance with hers the way he knew made her knees weak. He caught her weight in one strong arm, staggering away from the table to press her up against the fridge, steadying them both against the appliance's cold, metal side before licking his way down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

"Alex," Jo protested, her voice sounding breathy with desire. Alex felt her put one hand on his chest, halfheartedly trying to push them apart enough to see his face, but he resisted. Snaking one arm up under her shirt to find the bare skin of her torso, he pulled her toward his chest, squeezing gently.

Alex could imagine how clutching and insecure his uncharacteristic embrace must feel to Jo, but he needed the reassurance of her soft warmth too much to stop. He only groaned in response to her calling his name, lifting one hand up to tangle his fingers in her hair, until her hand stopped pushing and her eyes dipped closed again.

It wasn't until he completed his journey down her neck and returned to capture her lips again with his own that he realized he was still crying- salty tears dripped off the bridge of his nose, running down onto his lips and showering Jo's face. He tasted the tang of them in their kiss, and he knew Jo that had too when shock and concern finally overpowered desire enough to make her lock her elbows to hold space firmly between them, pulling abruptly away from him when he tried to continue his caresses.

"Alex." She repeated his name more loudly this time, insistent and questioning. Her hazel eyes were wide and soft with sympathy as she studied his face, seeming to note for the first time the pain lingering behind the desire that darkened his gaze. Her hand came up to rest against his scruffy cheek and he leaned into her touch, sighing deeply as her fingers tenderly swiped away some of the moisture there.

"What's wrong?" She whispered at him, pleadingly. "What happened today?"

Alex swallowed hard past the painful tightness that suddenly constricted his throat, only able to shake his head wordlessly in response.

The better part of him wanted to tell Jo everything- she had been nothing but supportive and he knew she deserved an explanation for his erratic behavior. But the rest of him didn't know how to take all of his abstract, tangled thoughts and organize them into coherent words.

He had never talked about his feelings with anyone except Mer, and with her it came easy, as natural as breathing. She would know what he was feeling instinctively, without even needing to ask.

That thought brought with it an irrational surge of annoyance at how much harder communicating seemed to be with Jo, and pushed him back into what was easy: the physical part of their relationship that had always felt right and comfortable.

Alex wrapped his arms around his girlfriends hourglass waist again, intending to pull her back in for another kiss, but she didn't accept the terse shake of his head or allow him to silence her with his lips. He had known she wouldn't.

She pressed him, resisting the circle of his arms that surrounded her, grabbing his face in both hands this time and forcing him to meet her eyes as she begged.

"Alex, please."

He held her gaze for a moment, watching the hurt that his reticence was causing begin to bloom there, and he felt the guilty chasm in the pit of his stomach widen. He hated to hurt her, but he couldn't talk about Meredith right now, he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't ready.

Alex knew that if he allowed the swell of dark thoughts and crashing emotions to break through his precariously constructed dam of alcohol and avoidance, they would come flooding in to sweep him away. They would drown him, and he couldn't afford that luxury.

Later- he would break down. But right now, it was nearly 6 in the morning, and he had just a few short hours to sleep off the hangover pounding behind his eyes like a jackhammer before it was time to pick up the kids from school and daycare. In just a few short hours they would need him to be present and positive and functioning; and if he fell apart now, it would take more than just a few short hours to put himself back together.

So, he dropped his arms from Jo's hips as if the soft, smooth skin under his palms burned him instead of soothing him and pulled gruffly away.

"I don't want to talk about it, Jo." Alex heard himself growl. His voice came out sounding rougher than necessary and he regretted it immediately, hoping she knew that his sudden anger wasn't directed at her.

But as he turned his back on her confusion and concern, stumbling wearily over to their unmade bed, he could hear how the stinging hurt his words had caused made Jo's voice sound small and uncertain when she said his name one last time.

"Alex!"

Her exclamation was an accusation and a demand all in one word; but he was too tired, too fragile. He didn't need therapy right now; he didn't need her to analyze him and talk it out. He was splintering, tiny hairline cracks were spreading, weakening his sanity, and all he wanted was the warmth of her arms to hold him together, to be his tape and glue.

Alex sighed as he collapsed heavily onto the mattress, pulling the thick duvet over his head both to signal the end of their conversation and to block out the disappointment written all over Jo's face. He did his best to ignore the palpable cloud of pain and exhaustion that hung ominously between them, like the sky before a storm.

"I can't, Jo." He finally murmured, allowing a tiny fraction of the vulnerability and fear he was holding back to trickle through one of his cracks, letting it seep into his words and turn them into a whispered plea. "Please."

He wasn't sure whether he was begging her for forgiveness or understanding, for comfort or to be left alone; and he was certain that Jo didn't understand the meaning behind his anguished whisper either.

But she respected his wish for silence, and after an agonizing moment of uncertainty, Alex felt the mattress dip beside him as she climbed into bed next to him, draping one arm hesitantly over his waist and exhaling slowly, sending her breath puffing hot and fruity against his neck.

He knew he had scared her with all his pain and fire, but he also knew she loved him, and he loved her too. So Alex let Jo hug him, ignoring the whisper of doubt that crept in to his heart when her embrace didn't numb his pain like he had hoped it would- like Mer's always did. He let exhaustion tug his eyelids closed, simply glad not to be alone.


	11. Chapter 11

It had been a week since the Narcan had dragged Meredith abruptly back into a life she had been desperate to escape; a torturous week spent enduring one withdrawal symptom after another as her system struggled to purge itself of the morphine that had flooded her veins for so long. When the first wave of trembling and nausea had begun, Meredith had been shaken and unprepared. She hadn't realized that her body could become so addicted to the drug after less than three weeks of use, but she had forgotten to consider the impact that two weeks of TPN had made on her already petite frame. The intense sickness she struggled through in the aftermath of her decision may well have been less severe 10 pounds earlier- before muscular atrophy and IV nutrition had rendered her unhealthily thin, evaporating weight that she could ill afford to lose. She had been thoughtless and reckless in her overuse of the morphine pump, saturating her frail body with far more of the drug than it could safely metabolize, and now she was paying the price. The non-opioid pain medication she had been relegated to in the wake of her frightening "accident" was barely stronger than Tylenol, and it did nothing to extinguish the relentless fire burning in her incision sites and her broken ribs, or the constant ache that throbbed in the slowly healing bones of her broken limbs and jaw. She lived every waking moment in the shadow of merciless pain, another weight added to the crippling burden she bore as penalty for her choices. Nausea was another of her unpleasant consequences, and despite the double dose of Zofran she had been given the first time she had vomited all over herself and her sheets, her stomach had refused to be placated. Even the slightest movement caused it to rebel; waves of sickness washing unrelentingly over her sent her scrambling for the empty plastic basin a kind nurse had left propped on her lap. She had developed a fever too, sometime during the hazy hours of semi consciousness she had floated in after Alex had left- as if she weren’t already miserable enough. Meredith had spent the next several days simultaneously shaking with cold and dripping sweat, riding out a helpful immune system response that her nurses were reluctant to shorten by giving her anything to bring her temperature down. Although each new physical punishment for her choices was more unpleasant than the last, some dark and wounded part of her welcomed the discomfort as cleansing karma- penance for her sins. It was only once her mind joined her body’s betrayal, when the withdrawal process started to alter her brain chemistry, blurring the line between memory and reality, that Meredith wished for relief. For 48 disorienting hours, she was never alone; her fragmented mind summoned the company of ghosts, one by one bringing the friends and family that she had loved and lost drifting unpredictably in and out of her room. Meredith fought to remind herself that the faces she was seeing were just chemically induced hallucinations, a rare complication of morphine withdrawal; but Derek had certainly seemed real when he had crawled into bed with her for one restless night, she could have sworn she had really felt the solid warmth of his body curled reassuringly against her back and the familiar smell of his morning breath puffing hot against her face as his lips trailed sloppy kisses down her neck. Even though a part of her knew that the golden moment was fabricated, just a fevered dream, she didn’t question it, letting herself sink into the comforting embrace she had dreamed of for so many lonely nights after Derek had died. When her husband had vanished from beside her, disappearing as unexpectedly as he had appeared, it was George who took his place, settling comfortably into the chair by her side and grinning at her shocked expression, looking happy and at peace. He was followed by Lexie, then Susan, then Mark, and even Ellis Grey- each new visitor seeming both familiar and yet new, somehow more vibrant and unburdened in her imagination than they had ever been in life. It was a struggle to keep from surrendering completely to the illusionary haze that enveloped her mind, she had to fight to come up with a reason to trade in this dreamland where her friends were as real as she was and the pain of the past was a distant memory, for a return to harsh reality. But Bailey and Zola and Ellis were in the present, her children gave Meredith more than enough reason to hang on. It took far more concentrated mental effort than she had expected to convince her errant brain of what was real- and she did her best to ignore the chilling possibility that maybe such powerful delusions weren’t so normal after all, maybe her family inheritance had finally caught up with her and she was slowly losing her sanity. But eventually the drugs fought their way out of her system- through sweat and urine and vomit and tears. And when the haze of hallucinations gradually lifted from her mind, blowing away the dazzling haze of the past like fog before the wind, she woke up drained and exhausted, but clear-minded once again. Finally cognizant enough to be aware of her surroundings again, Meredith propped herself up on one elbow, ignoring the immediate twinge of pain the slight movement caused, and looked around her at an unfamiliar room. She was no longer in the ICU, she realized with a jolt of confusion; but she wasn't on the main surgical floor either. She laid back against the pillows piled behind her head, worrying the fabric of her rough bed sheets between her fingers as she decided that she must be in what the hospital called a step-down room- a purgatory of sorts for patients who were no longer critical enough to warrant staying in the ICU, but not yet stable enough to be transferred to the main recovery floor either. The change in her lodging was minute, but it indicated progress nonetheless, and when Meredith felt a small spark of hope ignite in her heart, she didn't immediately snuff it out. Spurred by the encouraging discovery of her new surroundings, Meredith moved her assessing gaze to her body next, taking advantage of her new mental clarity to objectively catalogue the status of her injuries- exactly the way she would if she were rounding on a patient. A calendar hanging on the wall opposite her bed had the day's date circled in red, and it served to give her a rough frame of reference for how much time had passed since the attack: just over three weeks was her best guess. With the question of time settled, the first body function she tested was her hearing, tentatively snapping the fingers of her good hand against her ear like she had seen Alex routinely do to newborn infants many times before. Listening carefully, Meredith noticed with relief that the shrill ringing of her tinnitus had slowly subsided, but even in the silence that followed its welcome absence, she still couldn't hear the slight sound of her snap. Fighting bitter tears that the disappointing discovery brought rushing unbidden to her eyes, she forced herself not to dwell on it, instead pressing quickly on to consider her jaw. Recalling the painful stab her tongue had received last time she had probed the wires trapping her teeth, she was more cautious in her exploration this time, satisfied when she couldn’t open her mouth more than a half inch that her jaw was still wired shut. She slid one hand gingerly over her throat, palpating the swollen skin gently, noting the inflammation that obscured the usual slender lines of her neck. Even her own light touch was painful, and Meredith winced, certain that if she had a mirror, she would see impressively multi-colored bruises blossoming across her neck. The contusions probably extended deep beneath the skin to her trachea- that would explain the soreness still constricting her throat, angrily chastening her each time she swallowed. Her back clamored for attention next, the muscles stiff and aching from such a long period of immobility, and she listened to their complaint, carefully shifting into a more comfortable position on the unyielding mattress. It was only when her body obeyed the command to move that she realized her broken leg had been released from traction, and there were no taut wires to stretch her limbs uncomfortably and restrict her movement anymore. The newfound freedom of motion was emboldening, and when a heavy fullness in her bladder alerted her that her catheter had been removed and now she desperately needed a trip to the bathroom, Meredith sat up slowly, painstakingly swinging her legs over the side of the bed. After so long without moving, supporting the weight of her own torso was hard work, and Meredith perched precariously on the edge of the bed for a moment, her breath coming in ragged gasps. An tugging sensation in the crook of her arm drew her eyes to the source of the discomfort, an IV line that her change in position was stretching too far. She straightened the line carefully, glancing up to inspect the bags of fluid hanging from the portable stand by her side. Her uncomfortable nasal tube had mercifully been removed and judging from the clear fluid dripping through the tube attached to her IV lock, the TPN was probably being delivered through her central line now instead. The pole of the IV rack looked flimsy, but her bladder burned insistently and seeing no other options for support, Meredith reached for it, wrapping her fingers tightly around the cold metal and hauling herself shakily to her feet. A sharp stab of pain lanced through her injured leg the instant she tried to put weight on her cast, strong enough to make darkness encroach upon the corners of her vision and rip a tortured groan from her chapped lips, but she managed with a massive struggle to remain upright. It was a tiny movement, standing up, and yet she felt as if she had run a marathon before she had even taken a step. Her entire body trembled with exertion and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath for a long minute, blinking against stinging drops of sweat that dripped into her eyes and rolled down the small of her back. The bathroom was less than 5 feet from her bed, but as she eyed the door, the distance seemed to grow, stretching into an impossible and insurmountable journey. Meredith tightened her grip on the pole in stubborn determination, knowing she would fail but desperate to accomplish something, anything for herself after depending for so long on the assistance of others. She fixed her eyes on her pale, bare feet, willing them to move, but after only one shuffling step her minute strength gave out. Her knees buckled, sending her crashing to the floor with a strangled grunt of impact as her head dipped forward, cracking painfully against the cold, unforgiving tile. She couldn't hear the noise of the alarms that screamed when the IV pole came clattering down on top of her body, ripping the needle that secured the PIC line out of her arm with a sudden pinch of soreness, but she felt the sudden rush of wind against her face when the door to her room burst open, and the vibrations the rumbled in the floor beneath her from hasty footsteps rushing to her aid. A thin rivulet of hot blood trickled down her forehead, seeping from a new laceration on her temple, but she made no move to swipe it away. All she could do was huddle on the ground in a pitiful heap of exhaustion and agony, mortified and ashamed by her own weakness. Meredith didn't recognize the firm grip of the hands that lifted her off of the ground, tucking her open gown more modestly around her exposed backside and helping her back into bed again; they belonged to nurses she had never worked with before, complete strangers. She took a small measure of comfort in their unfamiliarity, unspeakably grateful that none of her coworkers were there to see her like this. She could imagine the pity that would undoubtedly fill their eyes when they took in her bloody hair and trembling helplessness; the shame of their sympathy would be much, much harder to endure than the loneliness she felt in their absence. Meredith retreated into herself, lying still and unresisting, obediently allowing the nurses who were assigned to her care to tape gauze over the laceration on her forehead and reinsert her IV lock. It was only when she felt a hand come to rest insistently on her shoulder that she opened her eyes, staring dully up into the gently scolding face of an elderly nurse whose thin lips moved much too quickly for her to follow. Meredith held back her disappointment until the woman held up a bedpan in a wordless question. Then she surrendered to the scalding tears that came surging down her cheeks unchecked as- face flushed hot with humiliation and defeat- she nodded.


	12. Chapter 12

It was the golden hour just before dusk on what had been a rare sunny day in Seattle, but Miranda Bailey was not interested in stopping to enjoy the glimpses of gorgeous sunset light she could see streaming through each one of the hospital windows she strode sternly past; she was too angry. She had been told all of her life that she had a quick temper, but it was a generally righteous kind of indignation that had served her well for 20 years, so as she walked she allowed herself to fume over its latest targets- Meredith Grey and Alex Karev. She had watched over those two and their whole class since they were interns- coming up on more years than she liked to publicly acknowledge now- and during that time they had become much more than just students to her; they were her children. As Bailey passed a framed photo of Meredith’s smiling face hanging on the wall outside a skills lab named after her, she felt the same surge of pride that always swelled in her chest when she walked that hallway soften the sharp edges of her irritation and draw her back into memories of how far they had come. She was proud of the many accomplishments of all her former interns, but none more than Karev and Grey; she loved to tell anyone who would listen that she was the one who had raised them, taught them everything they knew. She had poured her time and energy into them, done her best to teach them right from wrong and set them on the right path, and under her instruction she’d had the privilege of watching them grow into great surgeons and even greater people. The rare moment of nostalgia that the photo had pulled her into brought tears of conflicting emotions welling up unexpectedly in Miranda’s eyes and she sniffed surreptitiously, swiping a hand across her face to clear her vision as she walked. She loved Meredith and Alex, Bailey thought to herself, like they were her own kids; although her brusque personality rarely let her express her affection in so many words. And, she rationalized to herself, that love was probably why watching them ignore everything she had ever tried to instill in them to act like damn fools instead made her so livid!

Her frustration had ebbed for a moment as she reminisced, softened by a surge of affection that always followed on the heels of fond memories, but it came surging back into the foreground of her mind when she nearly collided with a pale and disheveled Alex. Stumbling to a stop just in time to avoid spilling the smoothie she was carrying all down the front of her clean lab coat, Bailey sputtered in surprised exasperation, and shouted “Karev!” at Alex’s retreating back. But he seemed deaf and blind, oblivious to her admonishments, as he continued walking toward the elevator without even a backwards glance of acknowledgment or a mumbled apology tossed over his shoulder. He looked like a ghost of himself, Bailey thought with a sharp pang of worry, noticing how awkwardly his scrubs hung from his shoulders, suddenly too large even though they had fit just three weeks ago. The deep purple circles under his eyes looked like bruises, and as she studied him Bailey felt some of her annoyance fade into concern. She stared at Alex until the elevator doors closed and blocked him her from view, feeling the patented, curled- lip expression of disapproval that had long been her trademark soften into a frown of unease. He was not ok; she had been sure of that since the moment she had found him sitting, slumped and catatonic, on the dirty ER floor outside of Meredith’s trauma room. What she was far less sure of, was how to help him; she felt powerless, and that wasn’t a feeling Miranda Bailey liked.

Rather than stopping to wait for the next crowded elevator, Miranda turned toward a seldom- used door labeled 'stairs’, needing privacy to process the unacceptable emotions that seeing Alex so wrecked had brought rising uncomfortably back to her attention. She needed the physical activity of climbing the stairs too, although that was something she wanted much less. Ever since her heart attack scare, Miranda had renewed her commitment to keeping healthy and active, determined to lower her cholesterol levels and blood pressure no matter how unpleasant she found the process. So she stomped resentfully up the first flight of concrete steps, forcing herself to take frequent sips of the "green boost" cafeteria smoothie she had ordered for dinner, shuddering with distaste for both the taste of lawn clippings that filled her mouth and the extra exercise after a long day already spent on her feet. She was tired and hungry, and those things combined with her rapidly increasing anxiety over the situation with Karev and Grey made her grouchy, longing for the beverage in her hand to magically transform into the comforting caffeine boost of the coffee her Doctor said she was supposed to avoid. But of course it didn't, and she could almost feel her blood pressure tick a little higher in irrational irritation, making it more difficult to control the two other things the doctor had warned her to decrease- her stress load and her temper.

“Oh well”, she huffed aloud, already beginning to breathe heavier from the climb- “2 out of 3.” She had ordered the smoothie, and she was taking the stairs, but managing her stress and her temper was a lost cause today, she thought, between the two of them Karev and Grey had made certain of that! Her mind raced at a speed of hundred miles per second, threatening to overwhelm her with a never ending onslaught of memories and plans and emotions. She was exhausted, struggling to balance both the heavy load of professional responsibility that came with the title Chief of Surgery and the weight of personal tragedy these past few weeks had brought unexpectedly crashing in on her. Back in medical school, Miranda had liked to solve difficult problems out loud; the dilemmas that got twisted up in her mind had always seemed to straighten themselves out once she heard them spoken audibly. And now, feeling more overwhelmed and uncertain now as Chief than she ever had as a student, she decided to test the old habit on a situation that was far more important to her than any imagined scenarios she had ever needed to unravel on a college test. Her voice sounded high pitched with emotion and slightly out of breath from the physical activity as she vented, bouncing off the plain walls around her and echoing loudly in the empty stairwell, effectively masking the sound of rapidly descending footsteps. Bailey was lost in her own problems, unaware that she was no longer alone until the distracted intern to whom the footsteps belonged reached the landing she had stopped to rest on and for the second time that day, she was nearly knocked off of her feet by an oblivious male.

Bailey cleared her throat with an offended “harrumph” that finally resulted in the boy glancing up from his pager to mutter a hasty apology, his face paling with shock when he realized it was the Chief of Surgery standing on the landing in front of him, blocking his way. But Miranda didn’t bother to acknowledge his excuses, instead she stared intently into the boy’s wide eyes and reached out to slowly tap her index finger against his chest in emphasis as she continued her one sided conversation, indifferent to the obvious embarrassment and confusion of her captive audience. "Those children thought that they had a secret.” She confided, voice rising as she grew more impassioned. “But they've forgotten that I am the Chief. I see everything. I know everything!" The poor intern stammered something in response, understandably bewildered at how exactly he had come to be accosted in a stairwell by the blustering chief of surgery, but Miranda was no longer listening. Patting him on one bony shoulder, she sighed wearily and resumed her ascent, pausing only to toss a quick admonition of "Get back to work!" over her shoulder when she didn't immediately hear the boy’s footsteps scurrying away.

Once the only sound was again her own heavy breathing as the exercise began to cover her forehead in a sheen of glistening perspiration, Miranda let her mind pull her back to the night she couldn’t stop reliving, back to the exact moment that this crushing worry of constant worry had come to settle on her chest, distracting herself from how many flights of stairs still loomed tauntingly ahead of her.

She had been in bed with her husband the night that Meredith had overdosed on her morphine pump, and she had done her best not to alarm Ben with the terror she had been certain was etched into her face, or the dread that made her voice tremble when she answered the phone and heard Karev on the other end, nearly incoherent with grief and panic, calling to tell her that she had almost lost Meredith Grey- again. Bailey shook her head at the memory, fighting to tame some remnant of the powerful anger she had felt that night as it resurrected rebelliously in her chest again. Meredith had already overcome so much trauma in her life, and Miranda was enraged, furious with the universe, with God and with LOU, for burdening that poor girl unjustly with even more pain. She had always joked that Meredith had more lives than a cat, but she had never hoped for her to need them; it was only a dark attempt at humor, an effort to lighten the inexplainable reality of the unfairness of life. After she had hung up the phone, Miranda had buried her face against Ben's hairy chest and dissolved into tears, allowing herself the luxury of just one night spent feeling how close her heart had edged to indescribable pain, teetering on the edge of the terrifying precipice of grief that was the loss of a child. But the next day, she had hidden her dark circles and puffy eyelids with makeup, chased away her pounding headache with a double strength cup of espresso she wasn't supposed to drink, kissed her still-sleeping son goodbye and gone to work as usual. She was the Chief; she had told herself sternly. She was the Chief, and she would fix this.

The first thing Bailey had done once she had arrived at the hospital was to put herself personally in charge of Meredith's case; and the first decision she had made was to remove her from the opioid painkillers- effective immediately. Instead, she had downgraded her to a lower dose NSAID, regretting the discomfort she knew that the less effective medication would sentence the girl to endure, but less concerned with comfort than with her steely determination for nothing like this to ever happen to Meredith again. Miranda felt fiercely protective toward her favorite intern, and knowing the ordeal of withdrawal that she was about to go through, her first inclination had been to protect what little privacy the girl had left by saying no to the others who came to ask permission to consult on her case. But Maggie and Jackson and Callie and Richard would brook no refusal, so against her better judgement (and the hospital's established policy), Miranda had eventually softened at the passionate insistence of Meredith's friends and family. After all, they were the best, and Meredith deserved nothing less than that. Bailey knew that all of them- everyone in this hospital that bore her name- felt some sense of responsibility to the injured woman who had become their VIP patient, but only she and Richard had worn the same apprehensive expression as they had read in Meredith’s chart the incident repot. They were the only ones who had been there from the beginning; the only ones still haunted by dim memories of another time that this hospital had brought Meredith Grey back from the dead.

A few days later, when Richard had predictably cornered her in her office to talk, Miranda had swallowed hard and shaken her head dismissively at the dark suggestion in his eyes, stubbornly unwilling even to entertain the possibility that the malfunction of the morphine pump could be anything more than a very tragic, very frightening, accident. But even when Richard had left, seemingly convinced by her vehement refusals, Miranda had found that she couldn’t quite convince herself. She was the chief; she saw everything, she knew everything. It was both her power and her curse, and this time, she had seen too much not to be suspicious. She had seen the nurses gossiping about Alex's breakdown in the ICU the night that Meredith had been revived, huddling in quiet corners and whispering that the great Dr. Karev had screamed and sobbed and thrown chairs, that he had smelled like a homeless person- all sweat and alcohol and vomit- and that he hadn't been back to visit Dr. Grey again since that night when he had so publicly stormed out of her room. She had heard their whispers, but even still she had wanted to give Meredith the benefit of the doubt, reluctant to believe what her mind had whispered was the dark truth. Until Wilson had called her cellphone at 3 am, rudely dragging her from a rare, peaceful dream where unlike in life, everyone that she loved was happy and well; where no one was leaving, and no one was dying.

Miranda had picked up the phone still half asleep, and snapped automatically the same drowsy threat she had been using since she was a resident, "Somebody better be so close to dead that there's a tag on their toe!" before her mind had cleared the haze of sleep enough to register that Jo was sobbing. Then knowing dread had come trickling in slowly, replacing her annoyance with an icy certainty that told her what Alex's girlfriend was going to say even before she heard the words come crackling across the phone line. "Bailey, it wasn't an accident.” Jo had choked out between heaving gasps. “It wasn’t an accident… Alex told me a few days ago, but now he won't talk to me. I’ve never seen him like this, and it’s scaring me, and I-I didn’t know what to do or- or who to call. I thought about telling the police, or- or Psych, or a social worker or someone… but... It's Meredith. It's Meredith, Bailey, and if I did any of those things, he... he would never forgive me. I'm sorry, to bother you, I just- I didn't know what else to do." Miranda had nodded wearily at the flood of broken words, blinking rapidly against the hot tears that she hadn’t been able to keep from spilling down her cheeks and swallowing hard past the painful lump that had swelled in her throat, making her voice crack with emotion in a way that was far from chief- like or reassuring when she finally answered the panicking girl on the phone. "All right, Wilson, it's- it’s all right now.” She had sighed. “Take a deep breath, ok? Deep breaths, Jo. You did the right thing by telling me. Just- keep this quiet, please. Don't... don't say anything to anyone else. Let me worry about Grey- you just take care of Karev." Hanging up the phone without waiting for Jo's sobs to subside, Miranda had sat for a moment in the privacy of the darkness, sighing heavily as she was finally forced to confront the sobering truth she had been avoiding all along. This hadn't been an accident at all; it had been Meredith's second attempt at drowning herself- only this time under a cold tide of drugs rather than the icy waters of the Sound.

Bailey had stayed up all the rest of that night, sleep forgotten in worry, spending the quiet hours before dawn alone with her racing thoughts as she desperately tried to formulate a plan that would get Meredith the help she needed without destroying her life and family. But by the time the sun had risen she still hadn’t come up with anything; at least- not anything legal. Jo's memory of the procedure they were required to follow after a suicide attempt had been correct; usually, Miranda would be obligated to call Psych who would admit the victim for inpatient treatment, and send a social worker to care for children in the absence of next of kin. However, nothing about Meredith's case was usual, and the more Bailey had pondered them, the blurrier the lines of obligation had grown. For one thing, Meredith Grey was the hospital; her name was on the building and she was a prominent member of the board. For another, it would be impossible for Psych to admit her for inpatient treatment, because she already was admitted, albeit in a different wing. She was a trauma patient- just barely past critical condition and still in a fragile stage of recovery from several major surgeries- there was no way for her to be safely moved even if Bailey had been inclined to recommend it. And although Miranda was far from certain that the state would see it her way, she was immovably convinced that there was no need for a social worker. She knew that the diverse blend of people who surrounded Zola and Bailey and Ellis with love formed a far from a traditional family unit, but in her opinion, the community Meredith had built for herself and her children was far superior, because Maggie and Alex and Callie and Arizona and Amelia were the family that she had gotten to choose. There was not even the slightest shadow of a question in Bailey’s mind about what would be best for the children; Bailey and Zola and Ellis were far better off being cared for by some of the most competent surgeons on the West Coast than by a stranger in the foster care system. It had taken her several sleepless nights to reach a final decision, but the more Bailey had agonized over it, the less inclined she was to report the attempt at all- even though just the thought of concealing a secret that could cost both her job and her license had made her sick to her stomach. She had always been an advocate for following the rules and trusting the system, she had always taught her son and her interns not to test the boundaries that had been set up to keep them safe. But in Meredith’s case, she could see that the system that was meant to heal would end up only causing more damage- possibly to an irreparable degree. For the first time, the rules and the procedures had failed Miranda Bailey, and although she hated it, she knew that she would allow the overdose to remain recorded as an accident.

Bailey shook her head to clear her mind, breathing a grateful sigh of relief when she realized that she had reached the top of the staircase that led to Meredith’s floor without realizing where she was, and now the burning muscles in her legs could rest. Before she pushed herself off of the wall she had leaned against to catch her breath, Miranda took a moment to promise herself that she wouldn't allow Meredith to sweep reality under the rug this time; this time, she wouldn't look the other way and pretend that she didn’t know the truth- like she had all those years ago when Derek had carried her star intern's body- blue and lifeless- from the back of an ambulance. This time, she vowed to personally ensure that they healed Meredith's mind as well as her body.

Bailey paced slowly through the hallways, still so deep in sobering thoughts that she almost passed the door labeled Grey, M. She had been wanting to speak with Meredith since the moment Jo had called her, but she had been waiting for the right time, the right words, for a sign that she had made the right decision. When she had heard during lunch that Meredith had fallen in the middle of the night trying to reach the bathroom on her own, Bailey had smiled, because even though it was foolish and Meredith could have injured herself badly, it meant that she would fight. That fall meant that the irrepressible strength which had enabled her to overcome all of the tragedies she had already faced in her young life and emerge from the pain of her past as the best surgeon that Miranda had ever had the honor of training, was back. That fall meant Meredith was going to make it through this too. Bailey lingered for a brief moment outside the room before letting herself in, staring through the thick glass of the window at the outline of Meredith’s frail figure lying so still and unmoving under the sheets that if it weren't for her eyes, which were open and dully studying a crack on the ceiling above her bed, Miranda would have thought she was asleep. As if she could feel her mentor's stare, Meredith's gaze suddenly shifted quickly to the window, and Miranda jumped, feeling guilty for being caught staring but encouraged by the return of clarity she could see in Meredith’s expression and the small but genuine smile that curved her lips gently upward when she noticed her visitor. Feeling an answering smile of gratitude both to God and modern medicine stretching across her own cheeks, the Chief took a bracing breath and entered the room, carefully latching the door behind herself to ensure that they would have privacy for the discussion ahead.

The first thing she noticed about the space around her was color. Everywhere she looked, there were beautifully elaborate flower arrangements- sympathy offerings from the many personal and professional acquaintances of Dr. Grey- covering every spare inch of available space with vivid brightness. The sweet perfume of the flowers pleasantly masked the sterile smell of recycled hospital air and made her feel like she had just stepped into a tropical greenhouse rather than a tiny recovery room. Miranda was fond of flowers, she was an amateur gardener in the little spare time that her job afforded her, and she stopped to appreciate the beauty of a rare variety of blue rose that caught her attention on her way to the bed, leaning over to sniff a new blossom and finger a computer- printed stock card signed by one of the hospital's financial partners that was sticking up from the center of the expensive bouquet. Bailey could feel the weight of Meredith’s eyes on her as she moved about the room, they observed silently when she stopped to read the day’s chart and when she uncomfortably wedged her ample hips into the tiny, plastic chair tugged up to the side of the bed. Looking through the window from outside the room, some of the impact of Meredith's rough appearance had been softened, blurred by the distance and the semi-opaqueness of the glass. But now, sitting so close to her side and squeezing Meredith's cold hand between her own two warm ones, Miranda's stomach churned with nausea and a sudden surge of helpless anger as she was faced with the visible reminders of her fragile condition. The swollen patchwork of bruises encircling her friend's neck had begun to fade from deep blacks and plum purples to a more muted palette of seasick greens and waxy yellows which somehow looked worse, even though she knew the change meant that Meredith was slowly healing. As her assessing doctor's gaze travelled slowly over the rest of Meredith’s face, Bailey noted an impressive black eye and fresh sutures on her left temple from yesterday's fall, which the unhealthy translucency of her usually rosy skin made to seem even more prominent. Meredith's bright expression faltered when she noticed Bailey studying her injuries, her smile replaced by a subtle frown of self-consciousness and another emotion that Bailey couldn't quite place, a dark shadow that flitted quickly across her face, vanishing before she could name it. Bailey had to swallow hard past a painful lump that suddenly rose in her throat, but she did her best to keep a reassuring smile pasted on her face anyway as she turned to reach into the pocket of her lab coat, eager to reveal the inspiration that had come to her the day before, when she had seen it in Richard’s skills lab- an ordinary whiteboard that would now be promoted to a voice for Meredith. At first, Meredith just squinted skeptically at her visitor's triumphant offering. But as Bailey watched, dawning understanding slowly illuminated her face, and when Meredith gasped in surprise and eagerness, a tiny spark of life was rekindled in her flat gaze. The way she reached her uninjured hand toward the dry erase marker that Bailey procured next, fingers trembling with excitement, sent a sharp stab of guilt through her chest for not having thought of the board sooner. But still she shook her head kindly, moving the marker just out of Meredith's reach, feeling callous to ask her to bear the silence for just a few more minutes, but needing an answer to the awful burden of not knowing that she had been shouldering alone all week. Meredith had always been impatient, even as an intern; it wasn't one of her better qualities. But the frustrated glare that her friend sent boring through her skull in an obvious display of displeasure at the delay, only made Miranda chuckle with soft amusement now, too relieved that Meredith's feistiness was returning to be offended.

"Just a minute, young lady," Bailey scolded halfheartedly, patting her arm comfortingly as she murmured more to herself than Meredith, "I have something to say first." As Meredith looked on quizzically, she uncapped the black market and carefully printed two words-

 _I KNOW_ \- in large, clear letters that took up the whole board. When she held up her declaration for Meredith to see, she watched the irritation that had filled her eyes only a second ago waver and ebb, replaced with a heartbreaking depth of shame that answered all of her questions except one. Shaking her head sadly, Miranda didn't bother trying to conceal her pain or disappointment from Meredith when she erased what she had written before and held up the only question left still burning in her mind. Why? Meredith's chest heaved as she read the single word, her breath beginning to come in ragged gasps as her eyes filled with guilty tears. Dropping her stare to her lap as her cheeks flushed hot and red with shame, she shook her head mutely, unable to express in words the crushing weight of depression and hopelessness and exhaustion that had led her to attempt to end her life. In the face of Bailey's obvious turmoil, Meredith felt so selfish and cowardly, so disgusted with herself for failing to even consider how her actions would affect the people around her; the people who loved her and who she loved in return. Meredith had thought that no one knew what she had done, but now she realized she shouldn't have been so naive. How many times had Bailey told her that she saw everything and knew everything? Miranda Bailey was her friend, but she was also the Chief; and that was why the realization that she was privy to this particular secret made Meredith’s blood run cold through her veins. As not only a surgeon, but the Chief of Surgery, Bailey was contractually-bound to be a mandatory reporter; this meant that she had not only the option, but the legal obligation to report suicide attempts, even if doing so would implode a friend's entire life and 15 year career. Closing her eyes for a heavy moment, Meredith breathed deeply, desperately trying to brace herself for the judgement she had been waiting for all week, for the final karmic blow that she had known was coming. Wearily, without opening her eyes, too afraid of what she would see if she looked at Bailey, she held out her shaking palm in a wordless request for the marker.

Meredith's struggle was evident in that moment, Bailey could clearly read some of the staggering weight of mental agony that she had been fighting alone for so long, and rather than lessening her opinion of the pale woman in front of her, this slip in her mask of forced normalcy served only to impress Bailey with her strength, and redoubled her determination to help in any way she could. Blinking back tears of her own, she placed the uncapped pen in Meredith’s outstretched hand and supported the board in her lap so that Mer could scrawl, lefthanded, her own shakily formed question there,

_What are you going to do?_

The frightened resignation and vulnerability in Meredith's eyes as she raised them pleadingly to stare into her own moved Bailey, no matter how she had tried to steel herself against it, flooding her with compassion and a fiercely maternal protectiveness for the broken girl in front of her.

"Whatever you need me to do." She heard herself answer out loud, writing the words as she said them, letting Meredith read the resoluteness of her promise in both her lips and her letters. Any lingering uncertainty over whether she had made the right choice vanished when she watched shock and relief erode the last reserves of Meredith's forced strength, leaving her to sag weakly against her pillows, dissolving into great, heaving sobs that shook the flimsy frame of the hospital bed, and wrenched Miranda's heart. "Oh no. No, none of this, now. Come here, honey." She murmured, leaning forward to wrap her arms tightly around the remarkable woman that she had come to think of as her own daughter; the woman who had named a son after her, the woman who she had done a better job of raising in the brief 15 years since they had met than Ellis Grey ever had over the course of her entire lifetime. Bailey pulled Meredith's head gently down onto her chest as she sobbed, holding her like she hadn't done since Derek had died. She felt Meredith’s tears soaking her scrub top, watched her own tears fall into Meredith's greasy hair, and didn't let go until neither one of them had any tears left to cry.

It was only after a long moment, when Meredith shifted slightly and reached for the whiteboard again, that Bailey reluctantly released her embrace. Sniffing noisily, she stood up to fumble around the side table that had been placed near Meredith’s bed, searching for something she could use to wipe away the dark streams of ruined mascara she felt dripping slowly down her cheeks. Meredith watched patiently as she dabbed at her face, waiting until she settled herself back into the hard, plastic chair to hold out the whiteboard again. On it, Meredith had written the only two words she seemed capable of thinking through the haze of grateful unbelief shrouding her mind, knowing even as she wrote them that they were inadequate to articulate the true depth of her gratitude, but unable to come up with anything else. _Thank You._ Bailey read, but dismissed her shakily scrawled appreciation with a gentle shake of her head. _You are family,_ was all she wrote in response.

Meredith felt heat rush to her face again as her cheeks flushed a soft pink, this time from the kind words. She was unused to receiving such open affection from her usually brusque mentor, and as much as she wanted to just close her eyes and soak in the warm and comforting feelings that Bailey’s statement sent flooding into her heart, she couldn’t ignore the whispers of shame that refused to be silenced, mercilessly reminding her that after what she had done, she was especially undeserving of such generous compassion. And when she read Bailey’s next scribbled sentence, detailing what she knew were very lenient consequences for her choices, that internal whisper grew into a scream.

 _But Meredith, listen. Just because I'm not reporting this doesn't mean we're pretending it never happened. You won’t be alone for the next 72 hours- there will be someone in here with you night and day. And once you’re a little bit stronger, I am going to require hospital-mandated therapy as a condition of your discharge. And you will go, and you will cooperate; because you won't be coming back to work unless that therapist clears you. Do you understand?_ Meredith watched her lips move, speaking the warning aloud as she wrote it, and she didn’t need her hearing to be sure that Bailey was using the same "no- arguments" tone of voice she had been reprimanding her with ever since her very first day as an intern. Meredith dipped her head meekly in a nod of silent acquiescence; feeling very small and humbled under the pressure of Bailey’s assessing stare- boring into her soul. Bailey scrutinized her intently for a moment, but whatever she found in the other woman's expression seemed to satisfy her, because she patted Meredith's knee gently, signaling an end to the uncomfortable discussion by gesturing toward the board, inviting Meredith to ask the questions that had accumulated over the course of so many silent days. Meredith reached for the marker eagerly, desperate for an end to her isolation, needing an answer to the two words that had been ablaze in her mind all week, driving her nearly insane with the fire of worry they had set.

 _The kids?_ She scribbled the question as quickly as she could, turning the board so Bailey could see read her anxious plea.

 _They're fine._ Bailey noticed the open panic in Meredith’s gaze and was quick to reassure her, writing her answer in small letters directly underneath the question like an old- school text thread, and Meredith sighed gratefully, sagging back against her pillows in weary relief as she read the rest of the comforting information.

_Maggie and Callie and Arizona have been trading off watching them and I stop in myself whenever I can too. Those kids are being spoiled, Grey- sleepovers and pizza parties and ice cream trips every night! They’re going to be adorable little terrors by the time you get them back! All they know about the attack is that you had a little accident at work, that you’re getting better and that they can visit you soon, and they're taking it very well. They miss their mommy of course, especially baby Ellis, but you don't need to worry about the kids, I promise; they're in good hands. You just focus on getting yourself better and home to them._

Meredith smiled, letting the immediate rush of relief that came from knowing her babies were ok fade enough to make space for other emotions and a new worry to come creeping into her mind. It seemed strange that Bailey hadn't mentioned Alex at all- when she had listed the many friends who had so generously stepped in to care for her kids- because he was their godfather, and because even though he sometimes bashfully attempted to hide his deep feelings for them behind a facade of masculine gruffness, it was endearingly obvious how obsessed Alex was with Zola and Bailey and Ellis. Meredith's stomach suddenly clenched with fear at the unwelcome possibility that maybe the reason that Bailey hadn't mentioned him was because he wasn't there. It had been over a week since she had watched him storm furiously out of the ICU room, maybe this time he had been too upset to forgive her; maybe this time he had decided to take a page out of her book and run away from the realities that hurt too much to face. Meredith felt abandoned and hollow at just the thought, terrified beyond words of being forced to live in a world without Alex. Every fiber of her being wanted to be angry at him, but she couldn't summon the emotion; how could she blame him for leaving her, when she had nearly done the same thing to him? Guilt pressed against her chest, cruel and crushing, as she remembered the agony that had filled Alex's eyes that last time he'd looked at her, so sharp and raw that it had cut her heart like a knife. When she wrote his name on the whiteboard it was shaky, and she half- erased the letters several times before working up the courage to ask a question she was afraid to have answered. Bailey watched her spiral, sighing heavily at the fearful resignation displayed in Meredith's eyes as she bent over the board; she knew what name would be written there even before Meredith held it up for her to read. When Meredith offered her the pen she took it, turning it over and over in her hands for a long moment as she stalled, hesitant to tell Meredith that Alex was broken, more shattered than she had ever seen him. Bailey was afraid that if Meredith heard the truth- if she heard that Alex had refused to take the bereavement leave she had made the board offer him, choosing instead to avoid his grief by burying himself under so much work that he had collapsed in surgery, if she heard that he had spent a day in a bed just down the hall from her own, admitted for a few hours of iv fluids because he hadn't been eating or drinking and sedatives because he hadn't been sleeping- that she would sink back down into the deep pit of depression that she was only just beginning to drag herself out of. So despite her historic commitment to honesty, Miranda lied unrepentantly, slowly writing

 _I don't know_ on the whiteboard, and praying that Meredith wouldn't notice her tense shoulders, or the dark circles painted under her eyes by worry and suspect the truth. When she read Bailey’s answer, Meredith's face blanched until her skin matched the stark whiteness of her pillowcase, her hand trembling as she put her deepest fear into words on the board.

 _He left?_ Realizing with a start what her answer had meant to Meredith, Bailey hurried to reassure her, shaking her head apologetically as she hastily scribbled, _No! No, he's here. He's working. I saw him just an hour ago._ She paused to wait for Meredith to release the breath she had been holding before finishing her answer. _He knows too, Meredith. But he'll come around. He just needs some time._ Meredith only nodded jerkily in response, turning her head away to hide the tears that suddenly glistened in her eyes. Bailey gave her some space to compose herself before drawing her attention back to the board with a gentle tap on her hand, knowing that her free time was nearly spent and wanting to make sure that Meredith had all the answers she had been wanting. _Do you have any questions about your injuries?_ She scrawled across the board. _Or your treatment plan?_

Meredith nodded, swiping salty moisture from her face and sniffling softly before ignoring the marker Bailey offered and simply pointing to her ears instead. Bailey smiled at her eagerness as she picked up the discarded pen, glad to be able to offer her some good news.

 _The hearing loss should resolve any day now that the swelling from your eardrum repairs has gone down. I know it's been difficult, but I promise you that it is just a normal and temporary complication of barotrauma. Hunt and Avery performed your surgery, so it was flawless; and all of your scans came back perfect. We just have to wait it out._ When Meredith read the good news that Bailey had written, she nearly started crying again, only this time in gratitude to the little bit of hope that her answer had restored to her heart. Bailey watched her with sympathy until her pager buzzed in her pocket, stealing her attention away from the bright moment, right on cue. When she pulled it out, the little screen that was her master lit up, reminding her that she was needed in a board meeting that had started 15 minutes ago. Huffing in irritation with the interruption, Bailey arched her aching back and reluctantly stood to leave. But before she crossed to the door, she wrote one last reminder on the board that Meredith's uninjured hand still clutched tightly, leaving her with a parting gift of the kind of dark humor that would shock civilians but was the only thing that kept surgeons sane: _Try it again and I'll kill you myself._

Miranda tried to school her features into a serious expression when Meredith stared up at her, eyes wide and unprepared for such a quick return to her mentor's normal bluntness, but her eyes betrayed her in the end, twinkling with warmth that she couldn't conceal. This kind of deadpan humor that had been a daily part of their interactions felt so right, and so normal, that Meredith felt startled laughter come bubbling up her throat like fizzy champagne, light and sweet, bursting its way past her lips in a creaky chuckle. She was certain her laugh sounded funny, probably low and breathy from disuse, and the exertion hurt her healing ribs, but Meredith didn't care. She let the comforting normalcy of the moment wrap itself around her like a weighted blanket and laughed, until her throat was sore and her sides ached. Bailey couldn’t help but smile in relief at the joy she hadn't seen on Meredith's face in what felt like forever, barely able to fight her own laughter long enough to tap one finger against her throat and admonish out loud, "Remember, full vocal rest!" as she left the room. But the hopeful sound of Meredith's laughter followed her down the hallway, and she sighed deeply, letting it swirl around her and fill her with the confidence to finally believe what she had desperately been telling herself all week: Meredith and Alex would both be just fine. She was finally sure of that.


	13. Chapter 13

Thunder cracked ominously overhead and a sudden gust of wind drove the slanting rain into his narrowed eyes, obscuring his vision, but Alex didn’t stop running. His feet slapped the asphalt in a punishing rhythm, not slowing even when his side began to ache and his breath puffed in ragged gasps and great drops of sweat ran down his brow, washed away by the summer storm.   
He was the only person in the empty park that morning- the only one foolish enough to brave the inclement weather- and he was relieved. This jog was therapy; it was anger management, and he was in no condition to exchange friendly smiles or make small talk with strangers.

It was only 5 am and his shift that day didn't start until 9, so he could have been at home in bed with his girlfriend at that moment, warm and dry instead of dripping wet, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to sleep in instead of torturing himself before the break of dawn. But Alex had given up on sleep weeks ago. 

Ever since he'd stumbled out of Mer's hospital room, shell-shocked and crumbling, night had begun to hold only insomnia and fear for him instead of rest. Most nights he laid awake for hours, staring at the ceiling through the fuzzy darkness and trying unsuccessfully to calm his racing thoughts. And when his worn-down body had finally managed to succumb to his exhaustion, then the night terrors had crept in. 

They would vengefully drag him from his fitful slumber, hijacking his dreams with terrifying imagery that left his heart racing and his muscles trembling and his head pounding painfully; and once they passed, he would stumble blearily out of bed, unwilling to risk what he might see if he closed his eyes again.

It hadn't been this bad in years- the PTSD that he didn't talk about or acknowledge to anyone, even Jo. But his episodes had steadily increased in both frequency and intensity over the past couple of weeks since Mer had tried to off herself, until Alex had given up on sleeping at night entirely and was just running off of 15 minute power naps he grabbed in brightly lit hallways between surgeries, and unhealthy amounts of Starbucks and Red Bull. 

The last time night had seemed so sinister had been just after his Dad had died, when every night had unearthed a deeply buried memory of himself at ten years old, screaming in panic as his immature body absorbed the angry force of Jimmy’s drunken punches and shouted curses. But back then, when the nightmares had carried over into reality and Alex had woken up with a jolt to the echo of his own hoarse sobs, he had grabbed his keys and started his car and driven through the dark on the route that he knew like the back of his hand.

When he had let himself into the house that he had never stopped thinking of as home- even after he had moved out- and crawled silently into the big bed beside Meredith, she hadn’t even flinched at his sudden presence. She had taken one drowsy look at his pale face illuminated by the soft moonlight that was streaming into the room through the skylight over their heads and rolled over to press her tiny body against his back unquestioningly, her endless sapphire eyes filled with a sorrowful understanding that reminded Alex of why he had felt he could come here in the first place; that reminded him of the many tear- soaked nights when he had done the same for her. 

But this time was different, Alex thought darkly as he panted for each burning breath. This time, he didn’t have the reassuring warmth of Mer’s arms, or the comforting cadence of her deep, even breathing to help him slow his own. The big bed in her room was empty and cold, lacking the only thing he had ever found that could take away the power of his past. So he ran; ignoring the weakness in his legs and the spots that swam across his vision because it had been months since he had worked out and at least a week since he had remembered to eat anything substantial. 

Alex pushed himself far beyond what he knew was safe, hoping that if he just ran fast enough, he could outdistance his fractured thoughts and leave the smoldering pain somewhere behind him. But even though he sprinted for an hour, not stopping until his legs compelled him by buckling from overexertion, her face still floated in front of his eyes.

After a gasping moment, as his empty stomach twisted and he heaved, retching bitter bile against an old, dead tree, Alex was forced to admit that what he was doing to himself in order to stay away from Meredith was unsustainable. His body couldn’t take much more of this abuse, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before his stubborn willpower ebbed and his battered mind gave into the excruciating, instinctual urge to sneak back into her room like old times, squeeze his broad shoulders into that narrow hospital bed beside her and finally tumble into blissful sleep- damning the consequences. 

Despite being up 5 hours in advance, Alex’s morning torture session had made him lose track of time, so he was 30 minutes late for his shift when he finally limped through the doors of the hospital. He was pale and dizzy from sleep deprivation and low blood sugar, his tousled hair still plastered to his forehead by the rain and dripping conspicuous wet splotches down onto the shoulders of his scrubs. He noticed every sidelong glance he attracted from the judgmental coworkers who turned to openly stare as they passed him in the hallways, but it was taking all of his strength just to keep himself upright on his aching legs, and he had no energy left to spare on feeling self-conscious. 

When Alex reached the nurses’ station, he accepted his packed schedule from a woman he didn’t recognize with a weary hum of thanks, then powered on the tablet to scroll through the long day of surgeries that the software laid out for him. He continued walking as he read the interminable list of what seemed to be mostly appendectomies, not glancing up even once to see where he was going. His feet knew the way to the locker room on autopilot, so he kept his heavy head down, staring numbly at the words that kept un-focusing before his bloodshot eyes, and relied on the probability that everyone who passed him would be paying more attention than he was.

Alex knew he must look like death- he certainly felt like it- but the angst that had rolled off him in waves for the last couple of weeks at least seemed to work in his favor today. The patients and staff he passed gave him a wide berth; no one wanted to get to close to scowling, volatile Dr. Karev, so he made it three hallways before colliding with anyone. 

He was nearly to the elevator when he felt his chest connect with solid warmth, and he dimly heard someone barking his name in a surprised exclamation, but Alex didn’t look up to see who it was. A few yards back, the world around him had decided to taunt him by beginning to spin nauseatingly and now he didn’t dare to take his eyes off his feet for fear that if he stopped directing them in a straight line, the dizziness would win and he’d tumble over. So he mumbled a quiet apology as he pressed the button for the elevator, only glancing up once he had made it inside and wrapped his hand firmly around the wooden balance bar attached to the wall. 

In the brief pause before the doors to the elevator whooshed shut between them, Alex’s gaze met Bailey’s flinty stare and he felt his uneasy stomach pitch and roll again with anxiety when he realized that it was the freaking Chief of Surgery whom he had just brushed distractedly past. He sighed heavily as her eyes narrowed in scrutiny of his disheveled appearance, knowing the moment he saw a familiar expression of determination settle over her features that his already unpleasant day was going to get a whole lot worse. 

The encounter with Bailey left Alex on edge and braced for impact all morning. But when he made it through 4 back to back surgeries without hearing her scolding voice come crackling through his gallery speakers even once, he relaxed slightly. Then lunch came and passed, and though he half expected it, she never came stalking through the doors of the attending’s lounge to demand that he force some food past the permanent lump in his throat. So by the time the sun was setting in a brilliant splash of color outside the windows of the pit where he had been paged, Alex heaved an exhale of relief, convinced that Bailey must have decided to save her wrath for another day. 

But he was wrong. 

Alex stumbled with surprise when he emerged from splashing cold water against his sweaty forehead and saw her leaning against the drinking fountain across from the door of the men’s room, arms folded across her chest in obvious displeasure. 

“Are you an idiot, Karev?” She greeted him dryly.

There was a long stretch of awkward silence while she stared pointedly at him and his still-dripping face flushed red with confusion and nervous embarrassment as he tried to determine whether her scornful question was rhetorical or if she expected an answer.   
Then sighing heavily, Alex felt his shoulders sag in weary resignation as he kicked himself internally for being naive enough to think he would escape this conversation. 

He should have known better, he berated himself silently; this was Bailey. She had never forgotten one thing in all the years he had known her. And here she was now, preserving her perfect record by shamelessly accosting him at the end of a grueling day of surgeries, asking his foggy brain to form coherent sentences when all he had wanted to do was go home and collapse onto a bed that held no sleep.

But she was still waiting, and the quiet between them was growing heavy with expectation, so Alex leaned against the wall to take some weight off of his leg muscles that were still screaming at him from their morning punishment and- too tired to be coy- offered her honesty.

“Probably.” He answered morosely, raising his eyes to meet her angry glare with his own hollow stare. His voice came out gravelly from disuse, so Alex coughed to clear his throat before finishing with a defeated question,  
“But what did I do this time?” 

Bailey’s scoff was so loud and exaggerated that he might have found it almost comical if he hadn’t been so bone- tired; but he could barely keep his eyes open, so he just stood mutely and absorbed her displeasure when she wagged her index finger in his face and snapped cryptically,   
“You know what you did, Karev. In fact, my whole hospital knows what you did!”

Bailey’s usually honeyed amber eyes darkened to a stormy black whenever her temper flared, and Alex was so spacey from sleep deprivation that their shift in color as she yelled at him was enough to momentarily distract him from her shouted words. For a moment he was silent, desperately confused. His foggy mind was frustratingly slow, slow to read between her words and slow to realize what his mentor was alluding to: his starring role in the latest hot, hospital gossip.

But once he understood that Bailey’s anger was triggered by what had happened in Mer’s room and not their earlier hallway collision, like he had initially assumed, Alex felt his pulse quicken and his own quick temper flash in fiery response.

“That- is none of your business.” He growled defensively, hiding the fact that he was crumbling inside behind a smooth, outward façade of anger. 

“None of my business, wha-” Miranda sputtered at him, her eyes widening in overstated shock as she scolded in rising volume, “Child, I am the CHIEF. Everything that happens in this building is my business! And especially so when what happens is one of my favorite surgeons throws a public tantrum and screams at the other- who is upstairs recovering from major injuries as we speak!”

Normally Alex would take her reprimand in stride, or even answer back with some angry rejoinders of his own, but today the topic was too raw and he was too fragile. Her words sliced into his breaking heart as acutely as if they had been knives, and Alex let his gaze drop to the ground in shame, suddenly unable to meet his mentor’s flashing eyes anymore. 

He already knew that Bailey was right, as usual; he knew he had been selfish and weak, and he couldn’t stop hating himself for it. But as much as he wished he could go back in time to that night and try again, a stubborn, wounded part of him whispered that he wouldn’t be able to react any differently, because there where no scenario in which this hurt any less. 

Still, the chastisement resonated, and the guilt that had been sitting crushingly on his chest for weeks seemed to grow a bit heavier as he panted, struggling to draw a steadying breath under its suffocating weight.

Miranda watched him struggle sympathetically, her anger softening into little creases of concern that framed her eyes as she watched the obvious cracks spreading across Alex’s carefully constructed mask of impervious apathy. When she spoke again, her voice was only gently admonishing instead of outraged, and her pronouncement was accompanied by a comforting squeeze of his shoulder. 

“I know this hurts, Alex.” She empathized softly. “I know it’s hell. But you are making a mistake.” She ended with a whispered warning, the steely conviction ringing in her tone strangely belied by her hand that had now slipped from his shoulder to rub comforting circles on his back. 

Alex swayed embarrassingly beneath the pressure of her touch, letting the wall he remained slumped against bear even more of his weight as he tried to quiet the churning in his gut. He wanted to challenge her admonition like a rebellious child; he wanted to scream and cry and rage and let Bailey feel the full mordancy of the roiling hurt and betrayal that had been eating away at his soul like acid for the past two weeks. 

But instead of giving the answer that burned on the tip of his tongue, he pressed his lips tightly together to contain the threatening overflow devastating emotions he was still unprepared to face. And ignoring Miranda’s frustrated shouts of “Karev, be rational!” that chased after him, Alex turned his back on her evident disappointment and limped wearily toward the exit. 

He was more tempted to collapse into his mentor’s arms and accept the consolation that she offered than he cared to admit to himself, but fear held him back. He was afraid of what might happen if he opened his mouth to speak, afraid that he might not be able to close it again before the immediate outpouring of agony that would surely come tumbling past his lips had already buried him beneath a landslide he couldn’t escape.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Alex spent another full week suffering in solitary agony before he decided he'd had enough.

He had stayed at the hospital long past the end of his shift, propped blearily up on the lumpy yellow couch in the attending's room and perusing research papers in a futile effort to keep himself awake. But when he bolted upright several lost hours later, woken by the sound of his own screams for the 21st consecutive night, Bailey's words of warning echoed once again in his mind and he was finally forced to confront the magnitude of his own staggering stupidity.

As he bent over his knees, willing his racing pulse to slow and gasping for each shallow breath, Alex had an epiphany. Even though he was fairly certain that the secret thought was illogical, and that a therapist would have a field day analyzing his screwed-up reasons for believing it, he couldn't silence the guilty whisper that told him what happened to Meredith was his fault. A dark, unignorable part of his mind insisted that if only he hadn't left to get coffee, maybe this hell that he was living would never have been; maybe his presence would have been enough to stop her from taking her own life.

With a frustrated groan, Alex dragged a hand roughly down his face to clear away the last hazy remnants of sleep from his vision. He was not a particularly intuitive or introspective guy, and he didn't usually allot his issues any more attention than a passing thought. But in that moment, with his muscles still trembling from the effects of the adrenaline that each night terror sent flooding through his veins, Alex found himself wishing his life had not left him quite so damaged; or as Mer liked to refer to the two of them, 'dark and twisty'.

Despite his dark mood and chaotic emotions, that random memory brought a bemused smile to his lips. Mer was the only one he had ever met that he felt could genuinely understand him. When he came to her moody and angry at his past, Meredith would joke about how they both had 'daddy issues' or how the only family inheritance they were in line to receive one day was insanity- and no matter how shattered Alex had been before, he always felt whole again after talking to her. She seemed to have the secret formula, just the right blend of morbid humor and subtle empathy, that would take soothe some of the sting of his pain and reclaim some of the power from his past.

But he couldn't add to her pain by selfishly asking her to put him back together this time. So he had stayed away, as much to shield Meredith from the destructive tempest of emotions that he couldn't control as to protect his own battered heart from the possibility of feeling the earth shattering agony of her loss again.

Alex had subconsciously thought that since he wasn't strong enough to subdue the insecurities Meredith's overdose had triggered and simply be there to support her, it would be somehow better and more noble for him to cleanly extricate himself from her life altogether. And in his lonely, pensive musings, he had darkly decided that maybe he had been wrong to blame the hospital all these years. Maybe he was the one who was cursed, and maybe stepping away from his best friend would be setting them both free.

But Alex had never been able to truly turn his back on Meredith. Even through the worst of his anger and his grief, he couldn't help watching over her from afar- guiltily, clandestinely- like he was an outsider instead of her family. And he had heard her panicked screams echoing through the halls of her floor on more than one endless night- grimly heralding that the PTSD she didn't talk about or acknowledge either must have resurrected in his absence to haunt her too.

He had barely managed to keep his distance for the past few weeks, but it was a fatal distance that was killing them both. And there in the darkness of the nearly-abandoned hospital, still shaken in the wake of his mind's nightly private screening of every trauma he'd ever been forced to endure, Alex finally admitted to himself that his brief attempt at life without Meredith had been far more excruciating than the worst moment of his worst day with her ever could be.

In that moment, it was as if brilliant clarity finally broke through the fog of grief that had been shrouding his mind since the incident and Alex sat ramrod straight, at last understanding with absolute certainty that existing without Meredith was not existing at all.

Choking back a sudden sob of conviction, he concluded that he would rather be hurt by Meredith every single day until he died than spend even one more second trapped in this cold, endless hell that was his life without her.

He was tired of surviving off indirect glimpses of her golden hair that he caught through windows or relying on stolen inspections of her chart to keep him apprised of her recovery. He was weary from fighting against the powerful magnetic tide that had never stopped pulling him back toward Mer no matter how repeatedly life tried to turn him around- like the way a compass needle always finds true north, even after it has been shaken.

He wanted to make her laugh again and be rewarded with the slow smile she seemed to save just for him- the one that scrunched up her nose and framed her sparkling eyes in friendly little laugh lines. He wanted to take her fragile hand in his when she was scared, and absorb her punches when she got angry, and stand by her side through every sucky step of the long recovery process he knew she was facing.

He wanted to wrap her in his arms and never let go again.

Alex had ached for these things for every second of every minute of every hour of every day that had passed since he had let his fear and grief chase him out of Meredith's hospital room; and tonight, he purposed with an exhale of steady resolution, he was finally done running.

Now that he was no longer expending every ounce of his fortitude to suppress it, the desperate, burning need to see Meredith flared too hot and powerful to deny. It was 3 am, a quick glance at his Fitbit told him, and she was probably sleeping; but Alex was already rising from the uncomfortable old couch and pushing through the creaking doors of the attending's lounge, too impatient to do the considerate thing and wait for a more reasonable hour.

He had waited far too long already.

He strode through the darkened hallways of the hospital on the wings of unadulterated urgency, his pace quickening with each eager step, until he was standing uncertainly outside Mer's door.

It whooshed open before him on silent hinges, but Alex hesitated on the threshold for just a heartbeat, just a breath; suddenly feeling ashamed and awkward and unsure of what to say to Meredith, knowing he could never apologize enough for his selfish decision to keep them apart for so long.

But then his feet were moving of their own accord, carrying him closer to her bedside, and in her proximity, he forgot everything but the longing in his chest.

At first, Alex thought Meredith was sleeping; the lights above her were dimmed and the only sound in the room was the steady beeping of her monitors, reassuring him that she was still here, still breathing, still his.

But as he stood there on unsteady legs, trying futilely to calm his galloping heartbeat and wondering what to do next, her shoulders began to subtly shake, and he realized with a pang of concern that she was crying.

Meredith never cried; and yet Alex could feel the pain of her soft whimpers as acutely as if they were burrowing deep under his skin and into the marrow of his bones. Consumed with sudden panic, he whirled on one heel to re-inspect the beeping screens that surrounded him, searching for some complication that might explain the cause of her distress. But no shrill alarms shattered the silence of the night with their screaming, and when his examination satisfied him that all of Meredith's sats were still steady and strong, Alex felt some of his immediate terror begin to ebb.

Still, Meredith continued to weep, and he stood frozen to his spot in the middle of the room, tense and uncharacteristically timid. He knew better than anyone how to take away her pain, how to hold her together when she was falling apart; yet for the first time in their relationship he was afraid to act on his instincts, acutely aware of both her fragility and the angry, hurtful terms they had parted on.

But each gasping moan that fell from her chapped lips echoed in his soul a little louder than the last, and the whispered thought that this unusual breakdown may have been his fault was the catalyst that finally spurred Alex into action.

"Screw it." He muttered under his breath; inhibitions overpowered by concern.

Single mindedly, he rushed to pull off his shoes and shrug out of his light sweatshirt, hopping on one foot in his haste and leaving the articles of clothing where they fell- in a forgotten heap on the dirty floor.

The full strength of his attention was devoted only to maneuvering his broad body gingerly into the narrow space left between Meredith and the railing of her bed, and then to the immediate sensation of blissful peace that rushed in to soothe the aching in his heart as he slipped one strong arm protectively beneath her head just like old times- just like he had been longing to do every lonely night since she had been attacked.

Her face was turned away from him, so he couldn't read her thoughts in her expression, but Alex felt Meredith stiffen against him for a moment, startled by his unannounced presence. And when he heard her breath hitch in her throat, he feared for one terrifying moment that she might push him away like he had tried to do to her; in what he knew would be a righteous punishment for his immaturity and selfishness.

But he couldn't wait for her permission; driven by the aching emptiness of three interminable weeks spent without her, he couldn't resist bending down to press his face into her limp, tangled hair, and inhaling deeply, breathing her in.

The familiar scent of lavender that Alex had expected to find there was nearly gone, evaporated into just a subtle memory by the passing of time; but surprisingly, he didn't miss it. Because even though her signature floral aroma had been replaced by antiseptic and sweat and hospital, underneath it all, she still smelled like Mer. She still smelled like home.

After a moment spent in agonizing suspense, Alex felt the tension slowly begin to drain from Meredith's muscles; and when she exhaled shakily, her body melting against his chest like the like the final missing piece of a puzzle, he felt dizzy with unbridled relief. He felt whole.

"Hey. Hey, Meredith; what's wrong? What can I do?" He murmured softly, feeling both grateful and unworthy to be this close to her, his lips brushing against her useless ear with each gentle word.

"Shhh, it's ok." He continued his quiet reassurances when her sobs didn't slow, whispering through the unshed tears that constricted his own throat,

"I'm here. I'm here."

Alex knew that Meredith probably couldn't hear him, but the soft shushing sounds he was making for her were helping to steady his own rapid breathing and calm his racing thoughts, so he made no effort to quell the jumbled stream of encouragement that flowed indistinctly past his lips.

He still hoped that even if his words were lost to the silence between them, maybe the heat of his breath puffing against the exposed skin of her neck or the low vibrations of his voice that rumbled in his chest could be enough to offer her some measure of comfort; or at the very least- the consolation that she wasn't alone anymore.

Clutching her to himself as tightly as he dared without aggravating her many injuries, Alex tried to communicate through just his touch the resolution he had already cemented in his heart: that she would never be alone again.

"It's ok, you're ok." He repeated the same phrase helplessly over and over, but Meredith's only response was to cry harder.

That night, she sobbed harder than Alex had ever seen her cry, even after Derek had died. And all he could do was watch uselessly as great heaving sobs wracked his person's slight frame with an intensity that he was cringingly certain had to be painful for her healing bones, and sent a veritable waterfall of mucus cascading slimily from her red, swollen nose.

Alex shifted the rough fabric of her oversized hospital gown to rub little circles against the cold, bare skin of her upper arm with his thumb, silently willing her to stop crying, to stop breaking his heart into a thousand irretrievable slivers with each sob.

But she didn't stop, and faced with the weight of her unquantifiable grief, he felt three words that had been buried unsaid in the depths of his soul for far too long suddenly surface to tremble insistently on the tip of his tongue.

He knew that opening his mouth would be impulsive, irrational; but the last few weeks had demanded every shred of self-control he possessed, and now he found himself empty and spent; defenseless against the strength of his reckless urge.

So throwing years of caution to the wind, Alex whispered a breathless confession against Meredith's salty skin.

"I love you," He admitted raggedly, his voice sounding somehow low and desperate and reverent all at once. "I love you."

It was hardly the first time he had said those words to Meredith; over the years the two of them had repeated the phrase to each other more times than he could count. Sometimes it was tossed flippantly over a shoulder to soften the edges of a particularly honest criticism; and other times it was murmured in drunken earnest at the end of a day they were eager to forget, as a bracing reminder of one thing they hadn't lost yet.

Still, this was the first time that Alex had spoken those three, terrifying words transparently. He had held back for decades, worried that if he confessed the real depth of his love for Meredith and she rejected him, he might lose the best thing that life had ever given him.

But there in that darkened hospital room, secure in the knowledge that their relationship was safeguarded by Meredith's inability to hear his foolish confession, Alex had finally found the courage to let his unsteady voice betray the truth: that what had begun as friendly affection had blossomed over the decades into something both unconditional and sacred.

As he had expected, Meredith didn't answer. The barrier of silence still sat heavy and unaffected between them, but Alex didn't mind. Even without reciprocation, he felt lighter and freer somehow just from speaking the truth aloud; as if the burden he had borne for lonely years had become a little more bearable.

He wanted to close his eyes and bask in the warm afterglow of the moment he had spent the last decade imagining, but a flash of movement out in the hall interrupted his thoughts and stole his attention away.

Alex had expected a night nurse, come to do a two-hourly check or possibly to scold him for being too close to Meredith's delicate incisions. But when he craned his neck unnaturally to see who was standing by the door, the comfortable, fuzzy warmth in his chest turned instantly to cold guilt, as if a vengeful universe had seen his brief happiness and rushed to retaliate.

It was Jo's soft footsteps that he had heard, and Jo's stricken face that filled his peripheral vision. She captured his eyes through the window of Meredith's room with a gaze of crushed resignation that sent a red flush of hot shame creeping slowly up Alex's neck. His back ached from the awkward position he was straining to hold, but he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't tear his eyes away from her betrayed expression.

Uncomfortable self-consciousness writhed in his gut like a pit full of snakes as he thought for the first time of how intimate his position with Meredith must appear; and he wondered with nauseating guilt if Jo had been standing there long enough to overhear his vulnerable whisper of love.

But even though the shame was a violent tsunami that rushed in to sweep him away on its surging current, and even though his brain urged him to get up and wrap her in his arms and apologize, to explain that this wasn't what it looked like- Alex couldn't seem to make his muscles obey.

An un-ignorable voice whispered insistently in his mind that it was exactly what it looked like- at least from his end- and that lying to Jo now, after he had finally admitted the truth to himself, would hurt her far worse than she was hurting now.

So Alex stayed where he was, curled protectively around another woman, and met his girlfriend's stare of dawning realization with one of humble, honest admittance. He hated himself then, for being so stupid; for letting such a wonderful, supportive, accepting woman love him with her whole heart when he knew there was a part of him had known all along that he had only part of his own to give in return.

He wanted to apologize, and his mouth opened of its own accord, grasping futilely for the magic words that could somehow make this better. But none came, and he pressed his lips together- helplessly mute- because he loved Jo too much to keep her from finding the adoration that he knew she was worthy of.

She should be someone's everything, Alex thought fiercely; she deserved to be someone's person. And as much as he had tried to deny it, the past few weeks had finally forced him to understand that there would always be only one woman who was his everything; only one person whom he couldn't function, couldn't breathe, couldn't live without- and it wasn't Jo.

So Alex laid there, motionless. He made no attempts to defend himself, or to explain; all he could do was try to control the tears of regret that threatened to fall and let Jo read the truth in his eyes- the truth that he knew that she had suspected for a long time now.

She glared at him for a heavy, regretful minute, until Alex watched her anger shift slowly into an expression of devastated acceptance. But the next moment the brief glimpse of vulnerability was quickly replaced by a proud tilt to her chin and a ramrod straightening of her spine and a steely flash of resolve that rushed in to conceal the hurt and defeat he had seen in her eyes; and he knew Jo well enough to realize numbly that it was over.

Alex watched her as she spun on her heel and left as suddenly as she had appeared, feeling strangely numb and exhausted and disconnected from what had just happened.

He knew he should feel guilty for hurting Jo; he should feel penitent and ashamed and broken and despicable. And he did, he thought with a surge of nauseating regret, feel all of those things. Because even though he knew now that she was worthy of so much more, he had sincerely loved Jo as well as he had known how and with as much he'd had to give.

But more powerfully than any of his other warring emotions, Alex felt relief. For the first time in his life, he had finally gained the emotional clarity to see that everything he had ever wanted and more was lying right there beside him in that hospital bed, still held tightly in his arms.

The realization that Meredith was still sobbing against his chest sobered him, pulling his wandering mind back from its discordant musings on romantic epiphanies. There would be time enough to mourn the end of his ruined relationship later, but for the moment all that Alex was capable of thinking about or focusing on was Meredith, and how her tears and her snot had soaked a large splotch of wetness through the thin cotton of his old t-shirt.

The sodden fabric felt suddenly cold against his skin and he shivered under the icy blast of the hospital's air conditioning as he resumed his soft reassurances.

"That's it, Mer… Let it out…"

He sighed, letting his lips brush against her forehead in a kiss so feather-light that he wasn't sure she could even feel the caress as his thoughts tumbled and spun- searching for something, anything he could say that might help calm her.

"Just let it out… All the tears, all the pain, all the-" Alex's words trailed abruptly into silence when he noticed that the cascade of snot which had caught his attention earlier had now swelled into a flow that he thought in sudden amusement could rival Niagara Falls.

He watched the mucus drip slowly down Meredith's chin in stringy globules that she made no move to wipe away, and felt inappropriate mirth bubbling carelessly up in his chest, illuminating his eyes with a twinkle of teasing humor that he couldn't contain.

"—Snot." He finished honestly, pulling his face far enough back from hers to be able to read her reaction to his stare of exaggerated shock.

The sudden movement seemed to stun Meredith out of her sorrow for a second, and when she turned her head to search his face, eyes wide as they met his, Alex thought he might have seen a tiny glimmer of answering amusement in her bloodshot gaze.

Encouraged by the positive sign, Alex continued his gentle joking, falling easily back into the special brand of affectionate mockery he had used to lighten with humor many other heavy moments they had faced together throughout the years.

"God, you've got a lot of snot!" He declared in feigned disgust, twisting abruptly to reach across her body and grab a handful of tissues from the box that sat by her bed. When he pressed them into Meredith's good hand, she just stared at him for a stretching moment, endless blue eyes surprised and unblinking, and he felt some of the brightness of the humor in his expression flicker uncertainly in the waiting.

But then, she laughed. Just a little chuckle in the back in her throat, and the sound was hoarse and muffled by the wires that held her jaw closed, but to Alex it was a melody that rivaled the most beautiful music he had ever heard.

Joyful relief flooded his veins and brought fresh energy to his voice as he leaned further into the welcomed levity of the moment, shaking his head in mock solemnity as he jested through his own suppressed laughter, "No, I'm serious, Mer. I'm for real. I mean- you might have a serious medical condition."

Meredith laughed again, a little stronger this time, a little more certain, and the final tear that ran down her cheek slipped into her hair- forgotten. But she still hadn't moved to wipe the snot that- all joking aside- really was getting slightly out of hand. So Alex nudged her fingers that were still lightly clutching the crumpled tissues and slipped back into earnestness, chuckling as he urged,

"Come on, woman, blow your damn nose."

It took a moment after Meredith smiled self- consciously and moved to obey his suggestion for Alex to realize, in a flood of understanding so powerful that the room swam around him, the possibility of what the small gesture could mean.

Then hoarsely, hardly daring to hope, he cleared his throat and choked out the startled injunction,

"Hang on- Mer."

She reacted immediately to his voice, pausing from dabbing at her swollen eyes to glance questioningly up into his suddenly ashen face. But even still, Alex couldn't believe what he had just seen, and his fingers reacted before his mind could catch up, snapping twice beside Meredith's ear in a rudimentary version of the test he sometimes used at work to assess a brand new infant's hearing.

It wasn't until he saw her flinch from the unexpected burst of sound so close to her face, that Alex allowed the tidal wave of irrepressible hope and relief that welled painfully up in his chest to overflow, spurring him to reach one shaky hand out to cup Meredith's cheek and ask, cautiously, gravely, begging her not to break his heart:

"Mer, can you hear me?"

"Mm- hmm." She answered quietly, her lips remaining closed over her metal-filled mouth as she nodded along with her mumbled affirmation. But her face was as shocked and white as his was and she seemed so unsure of her own answer that Alex repeated himself two more times.

"You can hear me? You can hear me!"

Somewhere along the way, his words shifted from desperate question to victorious declaration as he finally managed to believe that this moment that seemed far too good to be true, far better than he deserved, was really happening.

Meredith still seemed to have limited vocal ability, and her only response to each of his tearful exclamations was the same gentle hum, but Alex didn't care. He didn't need words when he could so clearly read the same chaotic depth of his own tangled emotions mirrored in her eyes, and hear his own colliding ecstasy and relief and most of all gratitude- inexpressible gratitude- trembling even in her two murmured syllables.

"Oh thank God." He exhaled unsteadily, gazing into her eyes in disbelief. "Oh God, you can hear me." He turned the exclamation into a prayer, a sacred thank- offering from his bursting heart to whatever higher power had shown mercy to him and righted his upside-down world.

When Meredith laughed again, the gravelly, perfect sound filled the room with vibrant, brilliant hope and Alex laughed too. Then suddenly he was the one who couldn't stop crying; but this cascade of tears that Meredith's shaky fingers reached up to swipe gently from his face weren't an expression of grief; they were just the salty overflow of his uncontainable joy.


	15. Chapter 15

After that shared moment of tearful gratitude, time seemed to recede for Meredith; and as Alex settled into comfortable stillness beside her, she felt that she would be perfectly content to stay there forever- in the safety of his fingers tangled gently in her hair.

So the hours slipped by in languid silence until it was now just before dawn, and the only sound in her room was the gentle cadence of Alex's deep, even breathing. She had felt his body go limp with sleep long ago, but despite the painful pounding in her head from crying for so long and the gritty sensation in her bleary eyes, Meredith was wide awake.

She longed to join him, to let go and fall unresistingly into the blissful release of restorative slumber that had evaded her for weeks. She could feel the dull ache of exhaustion settling slowly into every joint and muscle, but her racing mind stubbornly refused to succumb to her battered body's demand for rest.

Instead her thoughts whirled in incredulous wonder, compulsively cataloguing the thousand individually inconsequential sounds that echoed through the halls of the hospital around her. She had taken the noises for granted before, but now that she had experienced the emptiness of their absence, each one seemed incomparably miraculous.

Even though some hearing had returned, Meredith could tell that her ears were still far from recovered- especially on her right side. It had been so long that she wasn't certain, but she thought that the soft beeping of her monitors and Alex's rumbling snores sounded more muted and distant than they should- as if they were coming from out in the hallway rather than mere inches away from her face.

There was also an uncomfortable sensation of pressure plugging her ears that reminded her of the way her seasonal allergies flared up during the summer and took up unwelcome residence in her sinuses. But it was fall, and this fullness did not dissipate when she plugged her nose and blew in an attempt at the Valsalva maneuver.

She felt like she was deep underwater trying to decipher garbled sounds drifting down to her from up above the surface; everything that reached her ears sounded muffled, robbed of both depth and clarity.

She made a mental note to ask Bailey about it later but for the moment, Meredith found she didn't care. After an isolating eternity spent lost in complete silence, any degree of hearing at all was an invaluable gift.

So as the darkness turned slowly to dawn, she exhaled slowly, listening in grateful amazement to the world she had been so afraid she might never fully be part of again.

She was pulled back from her reverie a few minutes later when Alex snorted softly against her neck and she jumped a little, still unused to her restored ability to notice sudden sounds. The pale pre- dawn light illuminated his face gently as she glanced down at him, and Meredith took the opportunity to study him without fear of being caught, noting with a pang of concern how dramatically the hollows beneath his cheekbones had deepened.

The purple shadows under his eyes had intensified too, she realized with a frown. They stood out now in sharp contrast to the unhealthy pallor of his skin, and she felt her stomach sink at the telltale indication that Alex had been as tormented by insomnia over these past few weeks as she had.

His head lolled heavily against her shoulder, slowly causing her arm to go numb, but she made no effort to shift into a more comfortable position; she didn't want to move and risk waking him. His weight was grounding, and the flattering thought that her presence could still help him catch up on the sleep he had obviously been needing so desperately made something in her chest feel pleasantly soft and warm.

Meredith still couldn't believe that he was really there beside her. A small part of her was afraid to move or even blink, half- expecting that at any moment the comforting heat of Alex's body curled around hers would dissolve and she would wake in devastation to find that the past few hours had been just another lonely dream.

Even though she could feel him next to her, just the thought of being without Alex again set her pulse thrumming forcefully in her temples and Meredith had to squeeze her eyes shut as irrational anxiety suddenly clawed at her chest.

Deliberately resisting her body's impulse to hyperventilate, she focused instead on matching her ragged breaths to Alex's steady ones and watching the events of the last few blissful hours that re-played over and over in the darkness behind her eyelids.

But despite her best efforts, her thoughts tumbled faster than she could follow and her throat felt tight with emotion as she struggled to comprehend this new reality that still felt so surreal.

How many times over the past few weeks had she dreamed of a moment just like this? Meredith wondered incredulously to herself.

Night after night, as she had been dragged cruelly back into wakefulness by a fresh iteration of a familiar hell- screaming and dripping with sweat and somehow, always, shouting his name- hadn't she longed to be in this exact position?

Over the years, the pressure of Alex's embrace was the only drug she had ever found that was potent enough to hold the flashes of her past at bay. And now here he was in bed beside her, warm and solid and real- everything she had longed for and feared she might never have again.

Alex's arms held her tightly even in his sleep; but still, Meredith couldn't seem to relax. His breath puffed -rhythmic and comforting- against the bare skin of her neck, and every fiber of her being urged her to quiet her chaotic thoughts and lose herself in the peace she always found in his presence. But the cold, unyielding grip of guilt held her back, arresting her with one unrelenting thought: that she didn't deserve Alex's forgiveness.

She didn't deserve for him to be there, Meredith thought miserably. She shouldn't have let him wrap her in his arms again or chase away her tears with his smiles and his jokes and his kisses.

Not after what she had done.

This shame that she couldn't seem to defeat had come creeping back into her mind earlier, drowning out the comforting reassurances Alex had been murmuring into her ear with its loud insistence that she was unworthy of his touch. Even still, Meredith could feel her stomach churning with the sickening doubt it had stirred up within her.

The dark and twisty version of herself that still existed somewhere deep inside whispered that she was broken, doomed by family heritage to a lifetime of depression and anxiety. And even though she didn't want the devastating suggestion that took root in her mind to be true, Meredith couldn't convince herself that it wouldn't be far kinder for her just to push Alex away now before she inevitably spiraled and hurt him again- perhaps irreparably.

The thought of intentionally subjecting herself to a life without Alex was physically painful, and Meredith stifled an agonized sob because she couldn't even imagine choosing to exist in a world without her person- a world without his inappropriate jokes and his smug smirks and the genuine affection that sparkled in his eyes when he won her reluctant laughter.

But Meredith wanted Alex to be happy more than anything else, even if ensuring his happiness meant that she had to be miserable herself. So when she glanced guiltily down once more at how wrecked he looked she knew what she had to do.

She just didn't know if she had the strength.

She had tried halfheartedly to maintain emotional distance between them by not turning around when she had first heard his familiar footsteps shuffle to a stop in the middle of her room.

But then Alex had squeezed carefully into the narrow bed beside her and her body had melted against his far too quickly; too easily betraying her shaky resolve to maintain a safe distance between them. And even though she knew she wasn't worthy of his comfort, still she had taken it, drenching the buttery fabric of his tattered old Iowa State College t-shirt with her tears and drawing deep, desperate breaths of the steadying smell of him- the smell of home.

Because she was weak, Meredith thought hopelessly; Alex made her weak. She had lost the hard edge that loneliness had given her; now after so many years of his friendship and trust, she realized she had no idea how to begin rebuilding the walls that he had so gently broken down.

She could feel his unruly hair tickling her cheek, long enough to curl at the ends in a boyish way that she had always privately appreciated. And Meredith wondered despairingly how she would ever manage to refuse Alex's offered forgiveness when she couldn't even restrain herself from burying her burning face in those curls and letting the mingling musk of his sweat and shampoo calm her racing heart.

Fresh shame for her embarrassing powerlessness flooded her chest, but still, Meredith didn't turn away. She needed Alex to ground her this one last time, while she tried to find an innocuous explanation for the nervous flutter in her stomach that his proximity was suddenly causing.

And she needed him to be her something solid to hold onto, while she tried to convince herself that her clammy palms had nothing to do with the confusing, new passion she had thought she'd heard trembling in his three whispered words.

Her hearing had returned so gradually that Meredith had barely noticed at first how the incoherent rumbling of Alex's voice was slowly refining into audible phrases. Until suddenly, like an unexpected gift from a God she didn't believe in, Meredith had felt some of the pressure in her ears swell and burst painfully- as if she were a passenger on an ascending plane. Then all of a sudden she hadn't needed to guess the words his lips were forming over and over against her hair- she had heard them.

_I love you… I love you._

They still echoed through her mind, making her breath catch in her throat and electrifying every nerve in her body with a fizzy tingling that she hadn't felt for years.

There must be something wrong with her, Meredith thought desperately. There must be some side effect of the medications she was on that was cauaing her heart to thump so quickly and her world to spin so dizzyingly around her.

Because after all- this was hardly the first time Alex had told her that he loved her. The two of them had passed that phrase back and forth so many times over their decade and a half of friendship that it had become as comfortable and safe as a favorite old sweater.

And yet inexplicably, there had been a subtle difference in Alex's tone of voice this time that had made the familiar words sound brand new.

The more Meredith thought about it, the more she realized that she had felt the difference in his caress too- in the surprising way that the kiss he had dropped onto her forehead had held none of his usual gruff earnestness.

This time, the press of his lips against her salty skin had been slow, almost reverently tender. Almost… romantic?

The tentative thought stirred something giddy and bright inside her chest that terrified her, and Meredith was quick to reject the possibility that she wasn't brave enough to explore.

Of course Alex didn't love her romantically, she scolded herself deprecatingly, glad that there was no one to see her cheeks flush hot and red with shame at her foolishness. How could he, after the front row seat her actions had so recently given him to exactly how damaged and selfish she really was?

No, Meredith decided firmly, as a resurgence of guilt twisted in her stomach once again; her sleep- deprived mind must have been playing tricks on her, or her muffled hearing had distorted his tone, convincing her she had heard a depth that was never there.

Shakily inhaling as deep a cleansing breath as her still- healing lung would allow, Meredith did her best to force the embarrassing thought out of her mind once and for all, studiously ignoring the unexpected twinge of longing regret that she couldn't keep from lingering in its place.

Instead, she resolutely directed her attention toward the first pale rays of sunrise that came streaming hesitantly through the cracks in her blinds, watching them slant artistically across the end of her bed.

The arrival of dawn meant that she had been awake for over 24 hours, and she could feel the sleep deprivation beginning to affect her brain. Meredith's thoughts felt sluggish and hazy, and when Alex mumbled something in his sleep that sounded suspiciously like her name, she was too exhausted to fight the urge to press a little closer into his broad chest. Sighing heavily, she let her eyelids flutter slowly closed.

There would be time for distance later; but right now, with Alex beside her for the first time in weeks, unconsciousness held no fear for Meredith. So- lulled into stillness by his solid warmth- she let her confusing new emotions recede and tumbled at last into blissfully dreamless sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Some dialogue here is taken directly from the episode; so I just want to repeat my disclaimer that as always I own nothing but my imagination, and all of these amazing characters belong to ABC and the inimitable Shonda Rhimes.
> 
> Also, would anyone want to see Cristina come back? I've been trying to decide it it would be out of character for her, and I can't make up my mind. If anyone has input, I would welcome it! Thanks for reading. :)

Chapter 16

When Meredith woke again, it was to the bright light of afternoon sunshine slanting across her face and a vague feeling of cold. Alex's solid warmth had disappeared from beside her sometime while she slept, and even before she opened her eyes she felt instantly bereft when she realized his absence.

The next thing she noticed was the sound of hushed voices conversing in restrained excitement; it was what had woken her, and a warm feeling settled comfortably in her chest because she could still hear; the events of the night before hadn't been a dream.

The voices overlapped confusingly at first, but after a few seconds of focus, Meredith thought she could recognize Maggie's high pitched whisper of excitement- the same one she used on Christmas morning when she was so full of anticipation for her favorite holiday that she woke up before any of the actual kids.

Next, she picked out Jackson's more measured answer; his voice sounding low and steadying in comparison to Maggie's exuberant tone. Then she heard Miranda's relieved laughter, and fragments of Callie and Arizona's quietly murmured conversation- their indistinct words peppered with mirth of their own.

But what made Meredith's eyes finally fly open was one baritone voice that rose above all the others in a half- hearted admonishment to keep it down. Daylight momentarily blinded her as she searched the room, and when her vision cleared again, she smiled emotionally at the makeshift family who surrounded her. It wasn't until her eyes found him smiling warmly back at her that she realized she had been holding her breath.

She had assumed that Alex had left while she was sleeping, and a cowardly part of her had been relieved that she could delay the conversation she was dreading. But there he was, leaning wearily against a wall behind the little groups of talking people, meeting her unabashed stare with a steady gaze of his own- his deep, brown eyes brimming with an emotion that Meredith couldn't decipher.

He looked a little better in the light of day, she decided with surge of cold relief; now that he had exchanged his old, wrinkled clothes for a pair of sweats- hospital merch for visiting investors- that said Grey Sloan Memorial in large blue letters printed up the side of each leg and centered across his chest. And although he was too far away to be certain, Meredith thought that his face seemed to have regained a some of its usual color too, and that his eyes seemed slightly less bloodshot than they had been the night before.

Alex arched an eyebrow when he noticed her studying him, in an easy, familiar gesture of bemusement that seemed far removed from the new vulnerability they had shared last night. Even though she told herself that she had no right to care, especially considering what she needed to say to him as soon as they found a moment alone, Meredith couldn't help the longing that made her search for a hidden sign in his smile. But if Alex was as consumed by thoughts of last night's passionate declaration as she was, his demeanor didn't betray it. And suddenly, even though she told herself it was for the best, that it would make pushing him away easier, the return to normalcy between them made Meredith feel like crying all over again.

Alex held her gaze as he pushed himself slowly off from the wall that had been supporting most of his weight, clapping a hand on Jackson's shoulder as he pushed his way carefully through their friends. When he reached the end of her bed he stopped, and the way he reached out to affectionately squeeze her bare feet through the layers of her many blankets flooded her immediately with sobering waves of deja- vu.

His features seemed to shift into Cristina's before her eyes as she blinked, and Meredith was transported back into memories of the day that Cristina had stood in the exact same place, holding her feet in the same carefully tender grip- when she had fought her way back from death the first time. Suddenly she felt her friend's absence keenly, and a sudden pang of loss shot through her for the first person she had ever chosen to be part of this family she had made for herself.

Her thoughts of Cristina distracted her, so that she almost missed Alex's gently playful greeting, intentionally spoken loudly enough to announce to the room that she was awake. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." He smiled attentively at her, but this time Meredith could see the hairline cracks starting in his façade of fine-ness. It was the same disguise that she always wore like a shield, and she knew all of its tells by heart; she understood that it was anxiety that made Alex shift his weight subtly from foot to foot, and she could tell from how intently he waited for her acknowledgement that he was needing reassurance that last night had really happened too.

So she ignored her mind's cold direction to keep her distance. Unable to resist the pull of his soft eyes, she mouthed a silent "good morning" back up at him; but all she had time for was to notice the relief that slumped his shoulders and drew an audible exhale from his parted lips before she was lovingly mobbed by her overjoyed friends.

Predictably, Maggie was the first to rush over to her bed, and as she threw her arms around her with a tearful squeal, Meredith hugged her sister back tightly, ignoring the twinge of pain that flared in her ribs under the woman's slight weight. Her mind seemed intent on sabotaging her joy by reminding her of who was missing today, and as she rubbed comforting little circles on Maggie's back with her one working arm, Meredith had to try hard not to focus on how much Maggie's rambling questions reminded her of Lexie.

It was Bailey who pulled her mercifully out of her head by stooping to run a maternal hand over Meredith's tangled hair. The beaming smile she directed at her was filled with pride- as if just by waking up to the return of her hearing Meredith had accomplished some praiseworthy achievement- and her voice was unusually soft when she said,

"Welcome back, honey. I told you it would just take some time."

Meredith smiled tightly up into her mentor's glowing face, and then suddenly Jackson was there too, patting her casted hand in awkward relief; and Callie was pressing in beside Alex to squeeze her knee and grinning wide enough to split her face in half; and Arizona was sobbing loudly while apologizing for her tears. But all of their overlapping voices swirling around Meredith joined together into an indecipherable jumble of excitement that her still- muffled hearing couldn't decipher.

The questions and greetings just sounded like noise, and she was taken aback by how overwhelming the sudden cacophony was after so long being used to quiet. It assaulted her head painfully, and though she tried not to show it for fear of worrying or offending anyone, her brain's futile scramble to assign meaning to her friends' words left her breathless and dizzy.

She did her best to keep what she hoped was a smile pasted across her face, but she knew it was probably more of a grimace when Alex's bright expression was clouded by a questioning look of concern. She briefly considered lying, taking the opportunity to practice the life without him that she had decided was best; but she knew that it was pointless. Alex would see right through her. So Meredith answered the silent "Are you ok?" that his lips formed with a vehement shake of her head and a wide-eyed plea for him to understand the words she couldn't speak.

She needed her whiteboard, she thought in muted panic, craning her neck uncomfortably to see where it had been placed. She needed these people whom she loved deeply to talk one at a time instead of all at once- she needed them to take a step back so that she could breathe.

Tapping a shaking index finger rapidly against her ear, Meredith tried to communicate through the gesture that she could not understand the rapid-fire questions being volleyed at her from all sides. But Bailey only looked confused, and everyone else seemed to think she was asking them to speak louder, because the painful volume suddenly climbed to an even more unbearable decibel.

Her head was throbbing now with a tension headache that stabbed at the back of her eyes, and Meredith felt embarrassingly close to frustrated tears. But just before she mortified herself by crying in front of her friends and coworkers, Alex swooped smoothly between her and the press of well- meaning hands and hovering faces. He kindly lifted Maggie's weight off of her chest, patting the other woman's back awkwardly as he settled her in a nearby chair, and Meredith sighed in immediate gratitude when the fiery discomfort in her ribs receded again to just a dull ache.

He murmured something too low for her to catch into Bailey's ear, but the Chief nodded in response, clapping her hands as she spun to address her surgeons with the air of confident authority that Meredith had come to associate with her over the years. Then suddenly Jackson was pressing a marker into her hand with an apologetic smile, and Arizona came to perch a respectful foot away on the edge of her bed, reaching out to prop the whiteboard that Meredith had wanted in her lap.

Meredith breathed deeply until the overwhelmed feeling subsided, feeling a little embarrassed, but also humbly appreciative that nobody rushed her. Instead, her friends waited patiently as she gathered herself.

Alex had taken up his sentry at the end of her bed again, and he paused from the gentle massage he was giving the soles of her feet to offer Meredith a steadying nod of encouragement when she sent a grateful glance in his direction. After a few more breaths, she nodded at him in return and held the marker in her hand wordlessly out for Jackson to uncap. She was ready.

"Ok, Mer. How is your throat feeling?"

Jackson spoke first, and Meredith shook her head in answer to his question, wincing at the pain that flared as she swallowed, and scrawled

 _CRAPPY_ on the board for him to see. Jackson chuckled fondly at her blunt answer and continued talking, gesturing with his hands as he explained. But he was standing on her left side, where the ringing in her ears was loudest, and she couldn't understand him.

Frustrated and self-conscious, Meredith made an impatient sound in the back of her raw throat and stabbed her index finger against her better ear, wanting him to lean closer or speak louder or freaking write it down or something! Arizona noticed her frustration and rubbed her forearm soothingly, but Meredith petulantly ignored the gesture. She had expected this to be much easier, and now her initial good mood was quickly deteriorating.

Jackson nodded patiently at her before repeating himself; this time speaking more loudly and taking obvious pains to enunciate clearly as he explained soothingly,

"That's ok. There was a lot of inflammation in your neck and the soreness just means that your tracheal injury is still healing, all right? I'm sorry, I know it's tough, but in order to get that swelling to go down it is important that you continue the voice rest, Mer."

Clearing his throat, he glanced down at a chart that Meredith hadn't noticed he was holding before continuing carefully,

"We ran a few tests while you were out, including an audiometry, which showed that the hearing in your right ear has almost completely returned."

He paused to give her time to digest the good news, but she just nodded brusquely and gestured impatiently at her left ear, which still felt full and muffled. It was a mute question, but her friend immediately understood what she wanted to know. When he answered her, the placating tone that his voice had softened into put Meredith on edge, warning her that bad news was coming even before she had absorbed his words. She recognized that tone, because she used it herself whenever she was trying to deliver disappointing news to Bailey or Zola without triggering a temper tantrum.

"Ok, on your left side, you're looking at about 55 percent. Which is good-" Jackson rushed to reassure her, and she realized that the sinking discouragement she felt in her gut must have been reflected on her face too.

"-it is good, Mer, ok? It's only been a few weeks; it will come back." He insisted gently, telling her facts that she knew were objectively logical.

But Meredith's brain seemed to have lost the capacity for logic. And even though just hours before she had been grateful for any return of hearing, now in the light of day, having experienced how difficult such a significant impairment could be in a noisy environment- like say, a house full of 3 kids- she was impatient for a full recovery. So even though she wanted to be a model patient- calm and rational and understanding- Meredith couldn't help throwing a little temper tantrum of her own. Scoffing like a stubborn child in response to Jackson's assurances, she rolled her eyes and waved one palm at him in a frustrated motion that everyone very wisely ignored.

Callie changed the subject by lightly tapping her leg to draw her attention, and Meredith turned to scowl at her as she spoke.

"I want you to continue moving your fingers in that cast," she began, motioning toward Meredith's immobilized arm. But she overcompensated for the hearing loss that Jackson had just explained and the high volume of her voice made Meredith wince. A breathy hiss of pain that she couldn't suppress escaped her lips, and she dropped the marker to hold up one hand in the universal sign for stop.

_Please._

"Mmm." Callie chuckled a little self-consciously when she realized how loud she had been, but she adjusted her voice to a much more reasonable pitch, and Meredith sighed in relief.

"I want you to continue moving your fingers while in the arm cast, ok?" Callie repeated. "And you will remain non weight- bearing on the leg until we take the cast off."

Meredith's stomach sank again at more bad news, and she fumbled over the bed sheets for the marker to scribble

 _WHEN_? in large, pleading letters across the board.

She knew that Callie's treatment plan was designed to balance a conservative approach with the shortest recovery period, but she was growing more and more desperate for the return of relative independence that being able to stand upright again would afford. Bed pans and sponge baths were humiliating, and she had been dreaming for weeks of how blissful a hot shower would feel on her greasy hair, and longing for the privacy of using the bathroom behind closed doors again.

It was Bailey who leaned over to read her question and answer regretfully for Callie; and Meredith could feel her sympathy in the kind hand she placed on her shoulder. But the Chief shook her head as she explained honestly,

"Um, there's still a little bit of swelling in that leg- we've ordered a doppler to be safe. It's probably just local edema, but I think it's going to be at least another month before we can get you into a walking boot, Meredith. I'm sorry."

Meredith's only reaction was to close her eyes, blocking out the pitying faces that surrounded her and even ignoring the comforting squeeze that Alex gave her toes; every shred of her remaining self-possession was spent on not dissolving into tears of bitterness and discouragement on the spot.

But the others mistook her stony silence for a dismissal, and a flurry of shifting and throat clearing warned her that they were preparing to leave her alone with her angst before she'd had a chance to ask a question of her own.

Eyes flying open again, Meredith made a panicked exclamation to retain her friends' attention that she immediately regretted. Although it was successful, the abrupt sound stabbed her throat vengefully and earned her a reprimanding glare from Bailey as she picked up the marker.

Meredith had done her best not to think of him these past few weeks: the man who had done this to her; who had broken her body and very nearly her mind. But now she decided that she needed to know what had happened, she needed to try to understand what had caused her patient- who had been so kind and jovial- to suddenly become so violent.

It wasn't just about the closure though- Meredith had become a doctor for a reason. And deep down inside, even though she wanted to feel callous and angry and blame him for everything she had gone through so far, she also felt sympathy for Lou. She wanted to know if he had recovered.

When she waved the marker emphatically through the air, Callie reached out to uncap it for her and Arizona braced the whiteboard again so that she could scribble

 _LOU?_ on its surface in shaky handwriting.

Everyone in the small room craned their necks curiously to see what she had been so anxious to ask, but once they had each interpreted her messy scrawl, a tense silence settled heavily over the room. Jackson was the first to breach the stillness by reading her words aloud.

"Lou?" He asked, forehead creased with confusion as he turned to glance questioningly from face to face. "I don't- I'm sorry, who's Lou?"

He addressed his inquiry to Maggie, but rather than answering, Meredith watched her sister shift uncomfortably and exchange a dark glance of warning with Alex. The silence stretched like a taut rubber band, nearly ready to snap, until Callie finally sighed heavily. She looked apologetic for even saying the words, but she turned to murmur bitterly to Jackson,

"Lou is the patient who attacked Meredith. I've been calling him something else."

"Look-" Maggie interjected abruptly then, interrupting Callie's angry insinuation to fix her wide, hazel eyes on Meredith's face imploringly. "-Mer, please. We don't have to go into this right now."

Meredith stared back at her sister for a long, strained moment. She understood that Maggie was only trying to protect her from a subject that she thought would be upsetting; but her words came across as patronizing, like she was talking to a small child, and Meredith felt indignant fury beginning to color her cheeks with a hot flush.

Maggie was not wavering under the heat of her angry glare, so she turned to Alex, pouring all of her frustration and anger and powerlessness into her gaze and hoping that he would relent under its intensity and stand up for her. Alex sighed deeply and averted his eyes to the floor, and Meredith could tell from the furiously twitching muscle in his clenched jaw that he didn't want to hear anything about Lou. But still, he dipped his head subtly toward her; as always, he would respect her wishes. Even if he didn't agree.

Turning toward Maggie in resignation, Alex scrubbed a hand down his bearded face and wearily directed,

"Maggie, she wants to know. Tell her."

No one wanted to be the one who started this conversation, not even Alex. But after an anxious pause, Bailey stepped forward to offer Meredith the information she had asked for.

"Ok." Her voice was soft and low as she began, the emotion she clearly felt at the subject effectively masked by her practiced tone of clinical detachment. "Lou suffered a severe epidural hematoma in the accident… it's what caused the seizure." She said slowly, scanning Meredith's face intently for signs that she was becoming upset. But Meredith kept her features carefully schooled into an expression of stern indifference, and her screams stayed locked securely inside her mind.

"We think he was in a postictal state when he attacked," Bailey continued explaining. "When he woke up, he had no idea what he had done. He had surgery and was discharged, and he's- he's doing fine now."

Meredith sank back into her pillows, nodding in thanks for Miranda's honesty. But she felt hot anger wash over her as she struggled to come to terms with the cruel reality that she would be still be stuck in her broken body for weeks longer, while the man who had put her there was already home and recovered. It really didn't seem fair; and even though she had wanted to know, she could feel herself beginning to spin out again. She glanced instinctively up at Alex as her heart rate started to quicken- for what exactly she wasn't sure. But he nodded at her supportively and it was enough to help Meredith focus on regaining her tenuous grip on calm- just in time for Bailey to rip it away again with her next quiet words.

"Lou has reached out. He's made a couple of requests to see you."

"UH- UH." Meredith felt her eyes widen as she shook her head emphatically, ignoring the pain that her vehement refusal sent lancing through her vocal cords.

"He would just like to apologize." Bailey explained coaxingly, but Meredith shook her head even harder, hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. It was all too much, too soon.

She had just wanted to hear what had happened to Lou, that was all. There was no way that she could sit there and listen to his apology, no matter how sincerely he meant it. Just the thought of actually having to see him again, of existing in the same room as the broad hands that she could still feel wrapped around her neck in a crushing grip, brought a swell of panic- black and thick- rising rapidly in her chest.

Struggling to hold back the memories that threatened, Meredith lifted her good hand in a wordless plea, closing her eyes and panting as if she had just run a marathon.

_Please. Please. No more._

"It's ok." Alex murmured steadily, and she wasn't sure whether he was addressing her or Bailey. He knew her well enough to understand her wordless signals though, and she repressed a sob of grateful relief when he stepped decisively between her and their friends with a quiet command to leave.

"She's kicking us out," Alex said quietly. "Come on; let's go."

As, one by one, they filed out of the room, Meredith leaned back against her pillows and let angry tears bathe her face in their salty moisture. She felt dizzy as she considered everything that she had just heard; it was all too much to process, and she wasn't as prepared to face life alone as she had thought she was.

So when she heard a soft knock, and turned her head to see Alex framed uncertainly in the doorway of her room, clearly waiting to be either allowed back in or turned away, she smiled shakily at him and dipped her head in silent invitation.

Still, even after Meredith offered him nervous smile, Alex hesitated in the doorway for a little longer, watching her through thoughtfully narrowed eyes. She seemed withdrawn and anxious; lost in thoughts that clearly upset her, and he couldn't suppress his growing suspicion that her pointed refusal to meet his gaze and the deep lines of concern that seemed permanently etched into her porcelain forehead might be due to something deeper than the mention of Lou.

There was space on the bed, but Alex could see Meredith shrinking further back into her pillows as he approached, as if she was intentionally trying to keep a barrier between them. This sudden desire for distance was painfully different from the intoxicating closeness of last night, and it confused him, but still he followed her lead and dragged Maggie's little plastic chair up to the edge of the bed instead.

Meredith stared at Alex in silence as he sat down across from her. She knew that this physical separation she had enforced was necessary for what she needed to say, but all she could think about was pulling him back into the empty space beside her and letting his steading calm soak into her trembling muscles. The way he was looking at her- all restrained concern and quiet strength- opened up a bottomless pit of longing in her stomach, and she was suddenly desperate to steal just one last moment with Alex before she endured the pain of pushing him out of her life.

So she grabbed the whiteboard and scribbled a question that she had forgotten to ask Bailey in the aftermath of the Lou revelation, then held it weakly up for Alex to read.

He chuckled when he saw what she had scribbled there:

I WANT TO SEE MY KIDS. It was a demand, not a request; and it was so very, characteristically Mer that he found himself grinning widely despite his concern as he nodded.

"Yes, absolutely." Alex answered her softly. "They want to see you too, Mer; we'll bring them for a visit as soon as we can. We just need you to get a little stronger first- maybe after you graduate from the TPN so you can manage holding Ellis?"

And even though she hated the thought of any more delay, Meredith nodded in tearful agreement as she remembered the endearing weight of her little girl's chubby thighs- which it had been an eternity since she had squeezed.

Alex noticed her tears and leaned slightly forward in his chair automatically, always so effortlessly in tune with her, bridging the safe buffer of distance between them and setting her stomach fluttering incorrigibly at the faint smell of his cologne.

"I know it's not the same, but what about Facetime while we wait?" He offered kindly, seemingly oblivious to the thunderous pounding of her heart.

"Even tomorrow, if you feel up for it? I'll set it up myself."

All Meredith could manage in reply was another nod; she couldn't see to write through the tears in her eyes and she was certain that no words would ever make it past the painful lump filling her throat. In that moment, Meredith desperately wanted to abandon the resolution she had sacrificially made the night before- before Alex's lips had been so breathtakingly close to hers that it was nearly impossible to think of anything else beside her wildly inappropriate wondering of how they would taste.

But she was quickly losing control of both the situation and herself, so she knew she had to try. It was too cruel to keep sitting there mutely and letting him be so kind to her while she tried to work up the courage to end their friendship.

Alex watched her intently when she shakily she grabbed the marker again, a frown of anticipatory understanding darkening his expression as he suddenly recognized the self-destructive pattern in Meredith's behavior. He knew what she was about to say to him even as her tiny hand hovered hesitantly over the blank whiteboard; he could see the shaky resolve in her eyes, as well as the pain it was causing her.

This was dark and twisty Meredith, he realized then; the Meredith he had known years ago. This was the Meredith who bore everyone else's burdens but didn't know how to let anyone help carry hers. This was the Meredith who sabotaged her own relationships as soon as they got a little too close for comfort- as soon as she was tempted to let herself rely on someone else.

This Meredith was an expert at hurting the people she loved when she thought it might keep them from the possibility of being hurt more deeply later; this Meredith had mastered the dubious art of being cruel to be kind.

So when she turned the board for him to see, Alex was ready; he wasn't at all surprised by the harsh words that fell from her pen like a slap to the face. She had done this before, he knew. She had done this all her life. But he wouldn't let her do it to him.

He only chuckled humorlessly, a hollow burst of harsh sound, when he read Meredith's instructions to leave her room and more broadly her life. And the maddening way that he quirked one eyebrow at her as he stood and intentionally misinterpreted her words, asking coolly,

"Do you want to be alone?" ignited passion- fueled fury in her eyes.

She both hated and loved the way that Alex could get under her skin without even trying. He was so close to her that he almost felt like a part of her and cutting him out of her life felt like trying to cut off her own arm- painful and insane.

But insanity was woven into her genes; so even as she thought

 _No_ , what Meredith obstinately wrote was

 _YES_. _And don't bother coming back_.

Meredith saw Alex's amusement falter a little at her steely answer, but he deftly covered the hurt that blossomed briefly in his eyes with a flash of repressed anger and a tight-lipped grin.

"Come on, Mer." He coaxed lightly; his words underscored with a current of some underlying emotion that was much darker and rougher than his carefully flippant tone of voice. "Don't be an ass; I'll see you tomorrow."

The kiss that he dropped pointedly on her forehead in farewell electrified her though she tried not to show it, and Meredith began to realize that she was fighting a losing battle. She had no idea how to do this, she thought hopelessly as she watched Alex turn to walk stiffly toward her door. How was she supposed to push him out of her heart in minutes after she had spent years letting him in?

In her frustration, Meredith found a new use for the whiteboard- a projectile to chuck angrily at Alex's retreating back. And she was powerless to stop his name from being torn gutturally out of her throat; her lips formed the word on their own, and she had no choice but to recklessly disregard the sharp stab of pain that followed her hoarse shout.

"Alex!"

She was still very weak, and the board clattered loudly to the floor less than an inch from her bed, but she counted it a victory that Alex turned in response to the unexpected sound of her rusty voice.

When he met her eyes, it was as if the intensity she saw in his gaze was drawing her toward him with an invisible force, and she was helpless against its magnetism. Anguish slipped slowly in to replace her fury when Meredith saw in a flash of accidental vulnerability the unmistakable effect she had on him- the reverence written in every line of his face as he stared at her. It stirred an aching need somewhere deep in her chest, but she shut her eyes to block him out. Seeing Alex look at her again the same way he had last night- like even bruised and sweaty and angry, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen- would only make what she was trying to accomplish more excruciating than it already was.

When she finally forced them out, her words ripped a gaping hole in her heart. And her voice sounded small and broken even to her own ears as she whispered,

"Alex, please. I can't promise that I won't hurt you again."

Alex sighed deeply at the words that hung heavily in the air between him and Meredith, and at the familiar fear that he heard trembling behind them, fueling a misguided idea. He was suddenly grateful that Meredith's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, glad that she couldn't see all of the blood draining from his face or the way his knees briefly buckled before he caught himself; because even though he had known this was coming, he hadn't been prepared for how badly it would hurt when it did.

He waited until he had regained some semblance of calm before he retraced his steps to her side and sank numbly down again onto the tiny chair; and when she opened her endless sapphire eyes to gaze tearfully into his own, he felt the stricken expression on her face like a punch to the gut.

Alex understood the guilt that he'd heard in Meredith's whispered words, and he understood her anger. He was all too familiar with the instinct to shield others from the damage he didn't want them to see by driving them away. But there was nothing that Meredith thought she was sparing him from that he didn't already either know or suspect.

Alex understood Meredith because in many ways, he was Meredith. He knew that what she had tried with the morphine pump hadn't been her first time, only her latest. He knew, and he had made his choice. He had chosen her.

They were the same, Alex thought definitively; two halves of one whole. And since he couldn't live life half-empty, instead of leaving, he reached out to take her hand.

Meredith stared at their entwined fingers through a stream of uncontrollable tears, unable to muster the resolve to pull her hand away even though she knew she should. Alex was as stubborn as she was, and she could feel it in the tightness of his grip now, in the the way he was clutching her hand like he had no intention of ever letting it go.

But he didn't know what he was holding onto, she thought in shame; and she didn't know how to make him understand that the depression spiral she had only just barely found her way out of wasn't just a one- time thing.

Meredith wanted to confess to Alex that the real reason she had drowned in the Sound wasn't because she couldn't swim, it was because she had chosen to sink.

She wanted to tell him about the dark urge that had consumed her thoughts during her disappearance to San Diego every time she had looked out over the empty ocean- even after she had found out she was pregnant.

She wanted to explain to him the terrifying reality that even if through her best efforts she won this time, one day the urge could come back, and she might lose.

She wanted to list all of these reasons that she was toxic to him, that she was exactly the kind of crazy he had spent his whole life running from; but her throat felt like it was on fire from just the two sentences she had already spoken, and her voice came out too thin and thready to be understood when she tried. And in the end, it didn't matter. Because Alex already knew.

Meredith was shocked to see the somber depth of knowledge shining in his warm, brown eyes when she finally worked up the courage to meet his gaze, and to hear it weighing down his words when he answered her softly, almost as if he had seen into her soul and listened to her thoughts.

"I know, Mer. I've always known." Alex whispered raggedly, clearing his throat to rid his voice of the gruffness of unshed tears. "But you know I'm no stranger to personal demons; you've seen plenty of my own."

He sighed heavily then, as if he had to gather the courage to go on, and the only sound in the room was her own pounding heart until he continued.

"Look, I'm an adult. I can make my own damn choices." He informed her heatedly, the softness of his tone growing sudden barbs of frustration and passion that sent little involuntary shivers down her spine. "And I choose you, ok Mer? I choose you."

When Alex followed her gaze to their joined hands, Meredith's stomach flip- flopped wildly, not only at the pleading earnestness in his voice, but also at his choice of words. They brought a half- memory of a house of burning candles flitting through her mind, of fire against a night sky, and a confession of love from another lifetime ago.

_Pick me, choose me, love me…_

There was quiet for a long moment, but it was a soft and contemplative silence and for a moment Alex thought that he had won. But then Meredith murmured his name again- like a prayer, like a warning- and he knew with a crushing certainty that his not-quite truth hadn't been enough.

He was still afraid, but when she started to slip her hand regretfully out from beneath his, Alex decided to tell her exactly why he held on even tighter; and why he couldn't do what she was asking and just walk out her door and never look back.

In comparison to the terror he felt at losing Meredith, the fear of rejection seemed suddenly a small risk to take. So he gathered his courage and opened his mouth to speak, not knowing how he would ever find the right words to express how he couldn't breathe without her or how she meant more to him than life. All he knew was that he had to try.

Alex waited so long to speak that Meredith began to slowly re-erect the boundaries she had let him break down with his warm hands and whispered promises, wondering numbly if he had seen the truth in her arguments after all and been convinced to change his mind. But then he sighed, and when he looked up her again, she saw both her past and her future shining in his eyes.

"I love you." Alex whispered the phrase with an intimacy that both delighted and terrified Meredith by how irreversibly it defined the change she had noticed between them; and suddenly she couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, she couldn't think.

There was no question as to whether she had heard him correctly this time; the love that trembled in his voice was unmistakable and it shattered what was left of her fragile resolve to keep him at a safe distance. She couldn't have spoken if she had wanted to then; all she could do was turn her good ear toward him and listen in giddy disbelief, not wanting to miss a single word.

"I love you. I love you, Mer." Alex confessed breathlessly, as if now that he had started saying the words, he couldn't stop them. And suddenly even the two inches between them felt too far.

"I love you." He reiterated one more time. "And not just as a friend, or even as your person. I love you like you're my whole damn world."

A new and delicious kind of tension thickened the air between them then, and the moment hung- suspended by a breath- until Meredith broke the spell. Hesitantly, she reached out to wrap her hand around the nape of his neck, watching Alex's eyes flutter closed as she gently pulled his face down to hers.

And then it was her turn to whisper a confession through grateful tears; her breathless "I love you too" swallowed up by his lips as they tenderly met hers for the first time.

It wasn't the desperate, hungry kiss that Meredith wanted to give him- because her jaw was still tender, and her mouth was full of sharp wires, and she couldn't part her lips more than a few inches. But somehow, even despite the setting and the limitations, it was still perfect.

The ecstasy that spread through her body until she felt like she was floating was both nothing she had ever experienced before and everything she had been dreaming it would be for more years than she had been brave enough to admit to herself.

It wasn't just a reminder of her past; Alex's embrace held none of the mysterious intrigue of a dark- haired stranger in a bar. Instead, the familiar warmth of his arms around her gave Meredith a glimpse into a new future, one much brighter and shinier than she had ever dared to hope for.

She knew there were a lot of moving parts still to discuss- because she had kids and Alex had Jo and they both had baggage, and the road to recovery still loomed dark and uncertain ahead of her- but Meredith believed the promise that she tasted on his lips. For the first time in her life, she entertained the possibility that maybe she didn't have to hide her broken parts anymore; maybe it was possible to be fully known, and still amazingly, incredibly, fully loved.


	17. Chapter 17

Alex had half-expected that when Meredith’s soft lips released his and he floated back down to earth from that celestial moment, that the world would look different- that everything around him would appear as bright and new as he felt.

But it turned out that aside from the kissing- which even with the wires filling Mer’s mouth and his careful attention to being gentle had still been every bit as wonderful as he had secretly dreamed it would be for 10 years- the discovery that she somehow miraculously reciprocated his love surprisingly hadn't changed much else in the practical application of their relationship.

It was because they had been playing partners for years, Alex mused the next afternoon, on his way to pick up Bailey from preschool and Zola from kindergarten. It was because, as much as he had stubbornly tried to tell himself otherwise, his heart and his life had been inseparably entangled with Meredith’s since long before yesterday's breathless confession.

And this sense of change that he couldn’t shake- this impression of a fresh start- must be internal, Alex realized gradually. Even though his daily life still felt largely the same, he had suddenly changed. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of peace that inhabited the center of his chest now that had never been there before; and a comfortable warmth that he couldn’t explain. 

Because authentic love like what Alex had seen shining so vividly in Meredith’s gaze last night, wasn’t a concept that had ever existed in his childhood of abusive or neglectful parents and crappy foster homes. 

Because all of his life, everyone who he’d thought was supposed to love him had always been just using the power of the word to mask their ulterior motives.

Because after a while, he had started to believe that the cynical distrust of affection he had adopted to survive was all that there was. 

And even years later, even after how hard he had worked to overpower his past, some of those ingrained habits of self- preservation had persisted in his relationships. He had never truly let his heart be fully unguarded. 

Until Mer, he thought reverently. Until today.

The final crumbling of Alex’s defenses had begun with her lips on his, and with his disbelieving fingers twisted tenderly in her hair. She had dismantled his walls breath by heated breath, until he had found himself completely vulnerable to powerful emotions for which he had no frame of reference. 

And 24 hours later, he still had no explanation for why he felt so safe and invincible, or for why he lost all capacity for coherent thought now whenever Meredith’s familiar ocean eyes met his. 

All he did know with dazzling clarity was that his face ached from a stupid grin that he couldn’t suppress. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was flying; and he never wanted to come down. 

An accidental glimpse of himself in one of the car’s mirrors as he was changing lanes informed Alex that his face was still doing it now- the endless, uncharacteristic smiling that he was powerless to curtail. And as he drove, he wondered in amusement how Mer had managed to turn him overnight into such a ray of freaking sunshine that it was almost embarrassing. 

While they were interns together, she had used to disparage the ‘bright and shiny’ people; and he had joined her, to mask his own misery. But secretly, Alex had only hated the people who smiled while driving and had the life with the kids and a dog and a white picket fence because it was all he had ever wanted, and it had always seemed so cruelly out of reach for him. 

But hearing Meredith whisper “I Love You Too” had suddenly changed everything; he had tasted a future far brighter and shiner than he had ever dared to hope for on her lips. And as he steered her car into the parking lot of Zola’s school, he couldn’t help smiling a little wider; or feeling like maybe the rest of his life had already begun. 

He was doing a terrible job of maintaining his composure, and Alex knew that it was really only a matter of time before someone would be bound to notice this change in him and ask dangerous questions that he wasn’t prepared to answer. 

He expected that when it came, the interrogation would be from Maggie, or Bailey, or even Arizona; he would never have anticipated that the one to start the questioning would be Zola. 

But the little girl noticed that genuine elation had replaced his forced positivity as soon as she climbed into the car; the song that he had been singing poorly along to while he waited in the pickup line gave him away. 

And when Zo-Zo fixed him with that same narrowed-eyed look of calculation that Alex had seen on her mother’s face so many times over the years, he knew from experience that he was screwed. 

Sure enough, before he even had a chance to greet her, Zola asked him suspiciously, “Why are you so happy?” 

And for one frozen moment, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t just blurt out the answers that ran through his mind: 

Well, Zo, because your mommy kissed me last night and my whole world stopped. 

Or: 

Because I’ve loved your mommy since before you were born; and now that I know she loves me too, every time I look at your little face all I see is my future.

No, Alex told himself firmly, swallowing hard. He couldn’t answer Zo-Zo honestly, not yet anyway; that was a conversation for much later on, after he and Mer had a serious discussion of their own. 

But he had a policy of never lying to children- and especially to these children that he loved like his own. So Alex decided in desperation to take the coward’s way out and change the subject. 

“Well hello to you too, Zola!” He greeted in feigned offense at her curt question before tossing an amused glance over his shoulder to the back seat. “Did you have a wonderful day at school?” 

Instead of matching his bright mood, Zola frowned darkly at him in the rearview mirror. But so much cynicism looked comical on a five-year old’s tiny features and Alex couldn’t help chuckling in amusement even when she crossed her arms and answered sulkily, 

"It wasn't wonderful, it was just a day." 

Her determined obstinance is what finally dimmed his happiness just a tiny bit, and Alex sighed wearily at this continuation of what had been a weeks- long bad mood. He had been hoping for a more positive response today.

Zola had been acting out ever since, during a playdate with Sofia, she had overheard Callie and Arizona discussing how long it would be before her mama came home. And she had been stoically refusing to talk about her feelings with him; whenever he tried, the most he ever got in answer to his compassionate prompting was a one-shouldered shrug.

But Alex was sure that Zo-Zo had to be scared and confused by the uncertainty of her life right now; and he was equally positive that the way he had dropped so abruptly out of her daily routine for the last few weeks- while spiraling into an emotional tailspin- had only made what he suspected was anxiety even worse. 

His thoughts caused a twinge of fresh guilt to stab painfully at his chest as he nosed Mer's car cautiously out of the school pickup lane again and started for Bailey’s preschool, and Alex determined right then and there that he had to fix things for Zo. 

The way she was sitting- all moody and slumped over in her purple booster seat- had been dredging up too many painful memories of his own unstable childhood; until he couldn’t even look at her dismal expression anymore without fighting a surge of reminiscent nausea. 

This had gone on long enough, Alex decided resolutely. No child should ever have to endure the things that he (and he suspected Meredith too, though she would never talk about it) had experienced; and he couldn’t live any longer with even the remote possibility that these next few months could become a memory that Zola and Bailey would look back on as similarly traumatic. 

He might not be able to fix the last few weeks, Alex thought regretfully; but he would do everything he could to fix at least this day- starting with this moment. 

So he ignored Zola’s sassy tone and smiled kindly at her in the rear view mirror. 

"Ah, well you’re in luck,” he finally answered in a conspiratorial whisper. “Because I know two things that can turn any plain old day into a wonderful one. Now, this a secret that I've never told anyone else… except for you, Zo-Zo. Are you ready?” 

Despite herself, Zola nodded, and Alex stifled a smile of success at the immediate intrigue he saw replacing the petulance on her face. 

No kid can resist a secret, he thought in satisfaction, leaning even harder into this lighthearted role he had chosen to play. 

“They’re hot, they’re cold, they’re two of your favorite things. They are… ice cream and sunshine!” He declared like a cheesy game show host announcing a prize. “What do you say instead of going home after we pick up your brother, we get some ice cream cones and take them to the park?” 

Just as he had hoped, he heard an enthusiastic "Yes!" explode from the back seat in response to his antics. And when Alex laughed again, it was in grateful relief.   
Baby Ellis giggled softly in the back seat too, amused by his laughter or the animated expressions of excitement that Zola was making beside her. 

And as Alex reached uncomfortably behind him to fondly rub her downy head, the sweet little sound stirred something that felt like contentment in his chest- thick and warm. 

So as he turned up the radio and rolled down all the windows to let the rare Seattle sun come streaming in, Alex let himself whoop in happiness right along with Zola. Life was finally looking brighter, and he was celebrating. 

After the ice cream parlor where he let the kids order as much of anything they wanted even though he knew it would spoil their dinner; and the park, where he pushed them on the swings with unflagging enthusiasm until well after his arms felt like falling off and the sun was dropping low on the horizon, there was not a grumpy face left in sight. 

And after dinner, when all three children had been bathed, and their grubby, chocolate-stained clothing had been traded for clean, cozy pajamas, Alex got to watch their already brilliant smiles grow impossibly brighter when he told them that their mama wanted to say goodnight. 

"Can she read us a bedtime story?" Zola asked him eagerly, bouncing up and down on her little bed in boundless excitement. 

"Well, I don't know about that, Zo." Alex explained cautiously, remembering the poorly concealed pain that had flickered across Meredith’s expression after the two short sentences she had spoken the day before. "You remember last year when you were sick, how it hurt your throat to talk?" 

Zola stopped bouncing to nod at him with wide chocolate eyes as she asked in a small voice, "That’s how Mommy's throat feels?" 

"That’s how your mommy’s throat feels," he confirmed, giving her still damp braids an affectionate tousle. "But why don't you read her a bedtime story? I know she would be so proud to hear how well you’re doing!" 

Mercifully, instead of throwing a tantrum like he had half-expected, Zola’s little face lit up with pride as she ran to get a book and Alex sighed in relief, inexpressibly grateful that she had been so mature and willing to understand Meredith’s limitations tonight. 

"Ok, and what about you, Bailey, huh?" He asked brightly, turning to the younger toddler who was still bouncing happily on his sister’s mattress. "Do you want to go pick out a book for Uncle Alex to read?" 

But Bailey seemed much more interested in seeing how high he could jump than in choosing a story, so Alex just smiled and grabbed one that he knew was a current favorite before sitting down on the fluffy white rug in the middle of the children’s bedroom. 

Once he had settled a sleepy Ellis in his lap with her bottle and coaxed Bailey away from the bed by showing him the intriguing iPad, he pressed the green call button on Facetime and yelled, "Zola, come on!" when the app started to ring. 

Meredith's close-lipped smile filled the screen after only a few seconds, and even like this- her virtual face looking grainy and exhausted- the sight of her still took Alex’s breath away. Excitement made her blue eyes sparkle with a vitality that he hadn’t seen in weeks; and he smiled warmly at how obviously she had been waiting impatiently for their call. 

"Hi Mer, I have some very important little people here who want to talk to you." Alex greeted lightly. Then he turned the iPad so that the kids’ little faces fit into the frame, and directed cheerfully, "Everyone say ‘Hi, mommy!’" 

He only just managed to catch a glimpse of Mer’s good hand waving excitedly in hello before Zola came skidding into the room and snatched the iPad eagerly from his hands. 

In her excitement to talk to her mama, she held the camera way too close to her face for Mer to be able to see much more than her little brown nose, and Alex chuckled fondly at the little girl’s endearing ineptitude as he gently helped her to position her hands a few inches forward. 

"Hi, Mommy! I miss you!” Zola shouted loudly, talking so quickly that even to Alex, her words seemed to run together in a jumble of excited syllables. “I wanted you to read me Fancy Nancy again, but Uncle Alex says your throat hurts, so I’m going to read you a story tonight. I already read this book before in school and I got a gold star from my teacher… Ok, listen to how good I am!" 

Alex let his eyes drift slowly closed as he listened to Zola stumbling adorably through a level-one Amelia Bedelia reader, and to Meredith's soft, interspersed noises of interest.

The slight weight of Ellis's squishy little body felt grounding in his lap, and he cuddled her carefully closer as he sighed deeply. In the quietness of that moment, he felt it again- the near perfect contentment that had settled like a comforting blanket over his heart earlier. 

And Alex realized incredulously that for the first time in his life, he was experiencing the warm security that he had spent all of his lonely childhood longing to find. 

There on that floor in Mer’s house, with her smiling face on the screen and her kids all around him, Alex felt like he had finally found someplace where he knew for sure that he belonged. 

He felt like he had finally found his forever family. 

The restful peace only lasted for five minutes before Bailey started screaming because Zola wouldn't let him hold the iPad and Ellis began fussing to be put down; but even after he chuckled a hasty goodbye to an amused Meredith and dove back into the special kind of chaos that was bedtime with the Grey- Shepherd kids, the gentle rush of satisfaction in his heart never ebbed. 

It stayed with him in the shower, as the steaming water washed away the sweat and spit up and ice cream he wore on his body from an evening spent chasing after the kids. 

It persisted after he got out and stood in front of the mirror, naked and dripping, to carefully shave off a three-weeks beard.

And it still refused to fade, even when he realized that without the facial hair to mask his new gauntness, he hardly recognized this worn, exhausted, happy man staring back at him. 

Once Maggie got home from her shift, Alex pushed through the weariness to drive slowly back to the hospital in the dark.

He had been trying all day, but he even as he walked quietly into her unlit room and slipped off his shoes, Alex still couldn’t understand why the privilege of being the one who got to slip into bed beside Meredith every night- no longer just on grim anniversaries of deaths or after a particularly hard case- could be so suddenly his. 

All he did know as he draped his body carefully around her sleeping form was that the painful crick he would certainly have in his neck when he woke up the next morning was a small price to pay for the steadying reassurance that the soft sounds of Meredith’s even breathing always brought him. 

And the last hazy certainty that drifted through his mind before his eyes slipped closed was that he would gladly sacrifice far more than just the comfort of his own pillow for the chance to fall asleep next to her for the rest of their lives. 

Morning rounds came too early; it was barely six am when Alex was roused from his restorative slumber by a nurse whom he didn't recognize shaking his shoulder roughly and frowning disapprovingly at him. 

"Dr. Karev, you can't sleep here." The unfamiliar man scolded in a whisper as Alex struggled to focus bleary eyes on his face through the blinding morning sunlight. "The beds are only for patients; you know the policy!" 

Still half asleep, and too muzzy to expend mental energy on wondering how this man knew his name, Alex muttered an insincere apology under his breath that he knew was probably made unintelligible by how thick his tongue felt.   
All he wanted to do was escape the brightness by rolling over to bury his face in Meredith’s hair, but an insistent burning in his bladder warned him that he desperately needed to pee. So after a few moments he groaned and sat up reluctantly- careful not to wake Mer- and climbed clumsily out of the uncomfortable bed. 

When the strange man who was now gingerly taking Meredith’s temperature continued to glare openly at him as he yawned and arched his aching back, Alex felt a hot flash of annoyance sear suddenly through the residual fog of sleep enveloping his mind. 

For one satisfying moment, he briefly entertained the idea of informing the nurse who must be new here that between the two of them, he and Meredith owned two- thirds of this hospital; and that by his estimation, since they were the ones who had made the policies, they could also break them if they damn well pleased. 

But in the end, he chose momentary compliance over confrontation- even though he had every intention of repeating his sins as soon as they were alone again. 

Once the nurse had turned back toward his computer screen once more, Alex paused to admire in the relative privacy how soft and unburdened Meredith’s features looked in sleep. 

In the soft morning light, her expression was free from the little lines of tension that settled deeply into her forehead during consciousness, and he felt a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he realized that she must have slept as well as he had once again. 

For the second night in a row now, no specters of the past had reappeared to haunt them, and no remembered terrors had had dragged either of them awake to the sound of the other’s screams.

That realization seemed vaguely significant to him somehow, in a way that he couldn’t identify. And he couldn’t help feeling that if he were a therapist or even just a slightly more emotionally perceptive person, there would be some deeper meaning buried there for him to uncover. 

But Alex wasn’t either of those things.

It was enough for him just to know that Meredith’s presence kept his past at bay without understanding why; it was enough for him just to savor the welcome simplicity of a full night of sleep. 

So before he left the room in search of a restroom and a Keurig, Alex quietly decided that he would stop trying to understand his new feelings of renaissance and embrace them instead- as just another effect of the sacred mystery that was Meredith Grey and the consecrating, healing power she had always held over him.


	18. Chapter 18

By the time Alex got back with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, already starting to feel more awake from its soothingly acrid aroma alone, Meredith was up too. She turned to look in his direction at the noise of the door clicking shut behind him, and he smiled at her in gentle greeting when he crossed back over to her side.

"Good morning." He said softly, dropping another unashamed kiss into her hair solely because now, he could.

The only response he received before her eyes fluttered slowly shut again was a sleepily mumbled "Mmm"- a sound that would not be considered an intelligible word to anyone who knew Meredith less thoroughly than he did. But Alex silently thanked the universe for it anyway.

Because after a month of knowing with growing hopelessness that she couldn't hear anything he said, he had gradually learned not to expect a response. And each time she answered him now still felt like an unexpected gift; like a promise from the universe that things were slowly going back to normal, that Mer really was eventually going to be ok again.

So Alex stood there by her bed for a moment, soaking in the sound of a voice that he would never take for granted again. Then, once the paralyzing strength of his gratitude had eased enough to let him move, he cautiously peered through the windows of the room to make sure that the angry nurse from earlier wasn't still lurking in the hallway waiting to scold him.

Only after he was satisfied that the coast was clear did he settle carefully back into the spot he had claimed on the narrow mattress beside Mer. Her hospital bed was uncomfortable, and his long limbs felt cramped from being folded for so long into such a tight space, but Alex sighed in contentment anyway. Leaning back into the lumpy pillows, he took a long, slow drink of his coffee- stoically ignoring the painful way that it scalded his throat as he swallowed.

He was so caught up in the relief of placating what- after 15 years of too many double shifts and all-nighters- was probably turning into a raging caffeine addiction, that it took him a moment to register that Meredith had opened her eyes again and was staring at his paper cup in undisguised longing.

Once he did, guilt for being callous enough to sip her favorite beverage right in front of her while her jaw was still wired shut slammed into his chest with all the force of a Mac truck barreling down the I-205.

"Oh hey, I'm sorry. I didn't even think-" he blurted out in apology, trailing off to jump abruptly up from the bed as he hurriedly scanned the room for someplace he could pour out the offending liquid.

Meredith made a dismissive little humming sound in response and reached up to tap gentle fingers against his forearm, shaking her head in refusal of the apology that Alex could tell she found unnecessary. He understood what her gesture was communicating as clearly as if she had said the familiar words out loud:

No, Alex. Really-it's fine.

But he still felt frustrated and ashamed of himself for his dense insensitivity.

Now that her nausea was under control, of course she would be longing to eat and drink again. It must be miserable to spend so long living on nothing but intravenous TPN. He should have been more considerate!

"You're sure it's ok? I can dump it out." He offered sincerely.

But she shook her head again and the expression on her face this time as she arched one slender eyebrow at him clearly said Don't be an idiot, Alex.

So after a final moment of uncertainty, he sighed in unconvinced surrender and sank slowly back down beside her.

The silence that settled between them then felt- for the first time in their long relationship- awkward instead of relaxed to Alex; and even though he did his best to maintain an appearance of outward calm by quietly nursing the coffee that had lost its appeal, inwardly he was trying and failing to keep himself from spiraling down into irrational panic.

The casual intimacy that he had found in his connection with Mer had been a sanctuary in the middle of the chaos of his life for decades; and the fear of desecrating that haven with the same awkwardness he felt now was exactly the reason that he had waited so long to confess his true feelings for her.

What if his worst fears were coming true? Alex began to worry darkly in the stillness.

What if he had ruined the effortlessness that had always been his favorite part of them?

What if it was never quite the same?

For a few painful seconds, he stopped trying to force himself to think rationally and yielded to his mental whirlwind of dread. But just as his heart began to beat faster and the internal thoughts of self-loathing began in earnest, he felt Meredith gingerly shifting beside him, scooting close enough to his side to let her head rest against his chest.

And when he glanced down at her, she met his wide- eyed look of surprise with a little sigh of quiet contentment, and a reassuring smile that showed off the wires that he had jokingly dubbed her silver 'mouth jewelry'.

There was a knowing understanding shining in her gaze, a softness that told Alex that his momentary mental freak out must not have been as surreptitious as he had thought. Just like always, Meredith had seen through him as easily as if she could read all his private thoughts.

He had never been able to hide anything from her; he thought wryly.

He could distantly remember a time when her unerring intuition had annoyed him, but today he cherished it. Today he embraced the realization that even with all of the changes they had been through lately, at least this one thing had remained the same. He still couldn't keep a secret from her, and the sense of comforting normalcy that thought brought with it was enough to make Alex return her smile despite himself.

After just a few seconds, the worry that he had made a terrible mistake slowly began to recede, and as he wrapped a rough palm loosely around her cold fingers, he found himself echoing Meredith's sigh with an amused exhale of his own.

"How do you do that, Mer?" He murmured incredulously, not realizing he had spoken his thought out loud until he heard the questioning hum of her response.

"Hmm?"

"How do you always know exactly what I'm thinking?"

And exactly how to fix it.

She took a while to answer, and he watched patiently as her cheeks flushed at little in shy acknowledgment of the audible reverence he had allowed to seep into his voice. Then without letting go of his hand, she waved their entwined fingers in the direction of a dresser across the room, where her whiteboard was once again resting.

Alex quickly went to grab it for her; and after he had returned to place the board in her lap and an uncapped marker in her outstretched hand, it was his turn to blush at her countering question.

How do you always do the same thing for me? She wrote, raising one eyebrow at him coyly.

Because I know you better than I know myself, Mer. He thought seriously.

Because you are the best part of me.

But all that made it past his cowardly lips was a husky, earnest, "I love you."

And when Meredith Grey- who was somehow, impossibly, even worse with emotions than he was- wrote the same three words on the board without any hesitation, Alex felt his heart start to soar.

They sat there in the quiet again after that; but this time, the silence was hopeful instead of uncomfortable- filled with all the things that they felt so deeply and weren't yet brave enough to say.

Meredith laid so still beside him that Alex thought she might have fallen back into sleep, until the door to the room banged suddenly open and it was time to go from this private retreat they had stolen back to the daily realities of hospital life.

At first, he expected to see Bailey, or Maggie walk into the room, coming to check in on Meredith before she started her day. But a nurse carrying a shiny silver bedpan walked through the door instead, and after a glance at his phone Alex realized that it was barely seven am, still hours too early for surgical rounds.

"Good morning!" The unfamiliar woman greeted them brightly, wearing a smile that was altogether too bright for the task she was obviously there to accomplish. "How are you this morning, Dr. Grey?"

Meredith didn't answer except by mutely shrugging one shoulder, her earlier cheerfulness abruptly replaced by a mask of stony indifference; but if the nurse was phased by her coldness, she didn't show it. She just nodded pleasantly and kept up her bright stream of chatter as she logged into a patient records computer that was waiting by the head of the bed.

"I know, I know, nobody sleeps well in a hospital, right?" She chuckled dryly. "I'm sorry, honey. The good news is, I hear you're coming along so well now that you should be out of here in no time!"

Alex forced his lips to curve upward into a reflection of the woman's friendly grin, but he let her too- positive words wash over him without hearing them, all of his focus reserved instead for how concerningly Meredith's muscles were beginning to tense up beside him.

Her stoic expression would probably be inscrutable to anyone else, but Alex had the advantage of understanding from years of experience how her mind worked; so the subtle crinkles of disgust that appeared across the bridge of her freckled nose were enough to give him an idea of what was causing her sudden stress.

And his guess was confirmed when the nurse completed her task on the computer and turned from the monitor to face them once again, holding up the bedpan like a trophy and asking lightly,

"All right, it's been a long night. You ready for this now, Meredith?"

Then the shame that Meredith had been trying to hide behind indifference was suddenly obvious; it colored not only her cheeks but also her neck in a scarlet flush of mortification as she nodded reluctantly.

Yes. She needed to use the bathroom in the only way that was available to her while she was still immobile.

There should be no embarrassment in such a basic necessity of life, Alex thought in frustration as he witnessed her unwarranted humiliation. They were both surgeons, and they had both seen much worse than a little urine- which was supposed to be sterile anyway, right?

But he could see how powerless her immobility had made Meredith feel, and he could only imagine how frustrating that must be to a woman so fiercely independent.

Mer was also an intensely private person (well, with everyone but him and Cristina and sometimes Maggie), and he couldn't imagine that having to be so vulnerable in front of a complete stranger 3 or 4 times a day was helping her mood- no matter how kind and professional that stranger seemed to be.

So when the friendly nurse turned to him and directed brightly, "Ok, Dr. Karev, this is the part where you give us ladies some privacy!"

Instead of standing to leave, Alex pulled Meredith imperceptibly closer into his side and said politely, "Thank you, Ma'am, but I think we've got it from here."

Immediately, he felt rather than saw Meredith's confusion at his words. The vehement force with which she shook her head moved her whole body, and he wondered for a nauseating moment if he had somehow horribly misjudged both the situation and her actual comfort level with him.

"Mer, no. No, no, no, I'm not gonna hold the bedpan for you." Alex rushed to explain defensively. "I just thought if you wanted to use an actual toilet again, I could help you get to the bathroom."

He waited anxiously for a long minute then, ignoring the nurse's obvious shock that was sending her penciled eyebrows skyrocketing into her hairline, uncertain whether Meredith was going to accept his offer or angrily order him out of her room.

But she remained imperviously silent, staring intently at the thin blanket she was twisting between her fingers for so long that eventually, Alex sighed in acceptance.

Maybe he didn't know her as well as he had flattered himself that he did, he thought in embarrassment, bending to whisper a stumbling apology into her good ear before he left.

"I'm sorry, Mer. Maybe this was a bad idea." He sighed. "Just- I know life sucks right now, and I can't change that. But I thought some basic privacy might at least help it suck a little less."

Meredith heard Alex's soft words, and she felt his hot, coffee breath tickling her ear; but still she didn't move. She was thinking.

She could tell that he thought he had offended her sense of propriety or something equally stupid by offering to help her to the bathroom, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Over the years, she had become so comfortable with Alex that he had started to feel like an indispensable extension of herself- and it had been a long time since there had been any concern for modesty between the two of them.

Even wrapped up in some emotion that she couldn't identify yet, Meredith felt a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she remembered the hilarious expression of shocked annoyance she had seen on Alex's face that morning a few years ago, when she had ripped open the shower curtain to yell at him while he was naked and dripping wet under the water's spray.

That day had left nothing to the imagination, but even though he had acted so scandalized, it was hardly the first time she had seen Alex without clothes on.

They had lived together, and slept together, and shared one bathroom for so long that a certain amount nakedness was just inevitable- in fact, she was willing to bet that Alex had seen all there was to see of her on several occasions too. So no, Meredith decided firmly, her hesitation to accept his frank offer had nothing to do with shyness.

She knew that when it involved her, Alex always came from a place of kindness; and honestly, a few days ago she would have accepted his suggestion with relief and not spared a moment for consideration.

But things were different now. Ever since she had confessed that she loved him she had felt a change, and she could tell he had felt it too.

There was no doubt that they had been more than friends for years, but suddenly Meredith realized that she didn't really know what to call them anymore.

How would you label two people who had known each other inside and out for a decade and loved each other for just as long?

'Married' seemed more appropriate than any of the other terms that ran through her mind, but she and Alex weren't married either. They had lived together for years, but they had never even been on a first date. And that was what made her hesitate now, she finally understood; the desire to do this- whatever this was- right.

Alex meant the entire world to her, and she was terrified to jeopardize the refuge she had found in their relationship. She didn't want to rush into something too intense that would scare him away- she needed to treat the possibility of them with as much importance as it held for her.

Because more than she had wanted anything in a very long time, Meredith knew that she wanted this relationship to work out. She wanted them to work out.

And even though it had been a similarly lengthy period of time since she had dated, she was still reasonably sure that helping your brand-new girlfriend balance on a hospital toilet wasn't a typical first date activity.

Unbidden memories of Ava peeing on her couch all those years ago suddenly swam back into mind and she winced, remembering how unflinchingly Alex had pursed his lips and gently ushered the clearly troubled girl up the stairs and into the shower. She would never want him to think of her that way- as just another in the long line of crazy women that Alex Karev had loved.

So she hesitated, a reluctant refusal on the tip of her tongue.

Until she felt him beginning to pull away from her, lifting the pleasant weight of his arm from around her shoulders and standing to go- mistakenly interpreting her silence as dissent.

Then she made a flash decision to reach up and catch his hand.

Ignoring years of self-preservation instincts that screamed for her to push him away, she met his vulnerable gaze with an unsteady smile and forced herself to nod in grateful acceptance of the help he was offering.

Because in reality, theirs wasn't a normal relationship; she and Alex weren't starting from square one. She didn't need to shimmy into a skintight cocktail dress and suffer through an awkward night of asking boring questions about his favorite color and the ages of his siblings- she already understood more about him than she did herself.

And, Meredith though as a surge of fuzzy warmth swelled in her chest, she liked it better this way. There was something powerful about knowing the darkest pages of a person's story, and yet choosing to be with them anyway.

She liked that she didn't feel the need to pretend to be bright and shiny all the time for Alex- he already understood that life was often simultaneously beautiful and messy, painful and wonderful.

She was still nervous about the future, but they were both doctors- he knew as well as she did what the road of recovery that stretched ahead of her was going to look like. And if he was willing to shoulder all of that looming difficulty and uncertainty just for the chance to be with her, Meredith determined, then she could be brave for him too.

So when Alex raised his eyebrows at her in surprised relief that he hadn't inadvertently said the wrong thing and asked softly,

"Is that a yes?"

She disregarded the soreness of her throat to whisper, "It's a yes, please."

Meredith's hoarse answer came just in time, flooding Alex's chest with a rush of liquid relief. She had hesitated for so long that he had been positive she was angry with him. But the expression on her pale face as she smiled up at him wasn't anger; the lines that creased her forehead looked more like anxiety, or some other emotion he wasn't perceptive enough to name.

He wanted to pause and take more time to understand the look that he had never seen in Mer's eyes before, but a sudden, pointed "Ahhem" reminded him with a start that they weren't alone in the room.

The amiable nurse whose name he had never caught was still standing uncomfortably behind them, the bedpan dangling limply from one hand as she waited for someone to remember her presence. And once Alex spun around to stare at her, she quickly excused herself.

"Alrighty then, just call me if you two need any help." She said kindly before she left to stride briskly down the hall, leaving him pleasantly surprised by the lack of judgment in her tone of voice.

He wasn't sure exactly what it was that he had expected her to give them; maybe a shocked sideways glance, or some tongue in cheek indication that she was about to go stoke the ever- burning fires of Grey Sloan's gossip blaze. But the woman had seemed to take his emotional exchange with Meredith in stride.

Maybe she had seen in the set of his jaw how prepared he had been to argue if she had pushed back and wisely decided to spare herself the headache.

Or maybe she had just figured that he was a surgeon, and she could reasonably trust him not to break her patient any further.

In the end, all that really mattered was that Mer got what she wanted. So rather than continuing his attempt to determine the nurse's motives, Alex decided just to be grateful for how easily she had accepted his plan to blatantly disregard typical hospital policy.

When he finally pulled himself from his reverie and turned from the closing door back to the bed, Meredith was still staring up at him expectantly. She had already thrown the scratchy covers eagerly off her lap, and suddenly he had to push past a surge of unexpected nervousness.

"Ok." He breathed, more to himself than to Meredith, trying to mask his worry.

Seeing her in any pain at all had always gutted him, and a desire to prevent the embarrassment he couldn't stand to see was what had prompted him to suggest this plan in the first place.

But now, as Alex studied her casted arm, and the TPN line still attached to her central port, and her leg that was immobilized from the hip down, he couldn't keep from worrying that even though he may have had the best of intentions, he was only about to succeed in exchanging her mental pain for physical discomfort.

Half of him wanted to call the whole thing off and page the friendly nurse and the safe bedpan back into the room. But Meredith looked so hopeful, and he would rather do just about anything than disappoint her. So with one last shaky exhale, he decided to bury his anxiety under false confidence and just do his best to move her without unnecessarily jostling any of her injuries.

"Ok, Mer. I'll be as careful as possible, ok?" He promised gently. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you there; do you think you can roll the IV pole behind us with your good arm?"

He waited until she nodded determinedly before crouching down near the side of the bed and working up the courage to say optimistically, "Ok then, here we go. Ready? 1, 2 3!"

On three, Alex slid one arm gingerly under her bent knees and wrapped the other behind her back, cradling her carefully against his chest- bridal style- as he stood.

He was instantly taken aback by how much lighter Meredith was than he had expected; even with the added weight of the plaster casts, her body felt fragile and insignificant in his arms and he had to blink rapidly to clear his vision of angry tears.

He did his best to move as smoothly as he could toward the bathroom, careful to walk slowly enough for the IV pole to rattle noisily along behind them without pulling uncomfortably at her heparin lock. And every few seconds, he studied her face carefully for signs of pain.

But she smiled faintly at him and nodded when he asked,

"You ok?"

So he kept moving toward the door.

It was only a short distance to the en- suite bathroom. And in Alex's strong arms, even though she could tell he was trying to be as slow and cautious as possible, the journey went much more quickly than it had a couple weeks ago- when Meredith had disastrously attempted it herself. She didn't have to worry about falling this time, she thought with relief; held tightly against his broad chest, she felt totally secure.

Once they reached the bathroom, Alex paused awkwardly in front of the porcelain toilet, and Meredith could almost hear his thoughts spinning, trying to calculate the best way to do this. But they had no time left for deliberation- it had been a long night and she really had to pee.

So she rolled the IV pole loudly over the uneven, tile floor and parked it to the left of the toilet, then made an exasperated sound in the back of her throat.

"Yup. Here we go." Alex grunted in acknowledgment of her urgency, breathing hard as he tried to angle his body to the side so that she would be centered over the toilet seat.

As he gingerly lowered her, Meredith quickly reached behind her to pull her open hospital gown up in the back, then grabbed onto the IV pole again- this time for balance- as he slowly let go.

She only felt a tiny twinge of pain in her casted leg when he guided her heel down to rest gently on the cold floor, and that was only because the cast kept it stretched out straight in front of her in such a weird position.

But she felt safe- stable, and not like she was about to topple off the toilet in a real-life performance of the embarrassing scenario that had flashed vividly through her mind once the support of his hands had left her body.

So when Alex straightened up in front of her and asked quietly,

"Are you good? Or do you want me to stay?"

She shook her head emphatically at him and waved her hand toward the door, thinking

'Go. But thank you. Thank you so much.'

He smiled uncertainly at her, a slight shadow darkening his expression like maybe he was actually more worried than he had let on in front of the nurse; but he crossed the tiny room anyway.

Just before he shut the door, he directed,

"Ok, just- I don't know, jiggle the IV pole or something to let me know when you're ready to go back? I'll be right here outside the door."

She nodded at him again, more impatiently this time, and he smirked at her in gentle amusement before letting the door click softly shut between them.

Then, for the first time in over a month, Meredith was truly alone. Finally, there was no opaque window that just anyone could look through and monitor every detail of her life. Finally, no overly cheerful stranger was standing in front of her, studiously avoiding eye contact as she emptied her bladder right there in the bed.

In the welcome privacy of the bathroom, she realized that she didn't feel crazy at all. Actually- even though she had to clutch an IV pole in a death grip to keep her balance, and even though she hadn't walked in there on her own- she felt closer to sanity in that moment than she had in weeks.

The small measure of dignity and autonomy that the seemingly insignificant action of peeing independently brought her somehow made all the difference in her outlook on life.

And for the first time since the attack, she found herself starting to believe that maybe everyone who had promised she was going to be ok could actually be telling the truth.


	19. Chapter 19

A few days later, Jo wandered aimlessly through the winding hallways of Grey Sloan; the rhythmic squeaking noise that the rubber soles of her converse sneakers made against the freshly polished floors adding one more note to a symphony of hospital sounds that never ended- even in the middle of the night.

It was now well past 1 in the morning and her shift had ended long before, but she had no intention of leaving until someone caught on to the unreasonable number of hours she had been working lately and forced her to stop.

She just couldn't go home, she thought desperately. She wasn't strong enough to walk back into the darkness of her empty loft alone and face the soured memories of the past and echoing uncertainties for the future that inhabited it.

Right now, she needed lights and noise and people. She needed the merciful distraction of losing herself in a case, or the sterile peace of the OR, or the therapy of a scalpel clutched firmly in her steady hand. This past week had been hell, and work was the only thing keeping her afloat anymore.

So even though her feet ached from standing for so long, and her eyes felt gritty from exhaustion, and she suspected she might be starting to smell like she needed a shower, Jo forced herself to keep walking.

Because it was still there, the vivid image that seemed seared permanently into her brain now, hovering just on the edge of her awareness. And she knew that the second she stopped- the second that there were no more surgeries or rounds or charts or scut to demand her attention- her tired mind would go right back to replaying that moment she was so desperately trying to escape.

It would take her right back to the gutting memory of her boyfriend wrapped around another woman, whispering tender 'I Love You's into her hair with a kind of sacredness to his words that Jo never heard when they were directed at her.

The only way she was keeping herself together was by throwing all of her energy toward trying not to dwell on that night, and she had succeeded admirably up until now. But the bone-deep weariness that always followed an especially demanding shift was already beginning to settle in and weaken her mental defenses, despite her best efforts.

It took only seconds for the painful memory to slip through the breach that exhaustion created and take root in her thoughts again- both unwelcome and unbidden. Then suddenly, she couldn't hold back the threatening tears any longer.

Pressing one hand over her lips to stifle a sob, Jo let her gaze drop to her feet and her tangled curls fall around her face like a glossy chestnut curtain as she cried- hoping to shield her red eyes and wet cheeks from anyone who might happen to walk by.

It was mortifying to break down like this at work, and she felt frustrated with herself for her weakness. But at least she knew there was no danger of having to explain her tears to one of her coworkers. Their shifts had all started at 5 am the day before; and since working for over 20 hours was a level of extreme that sane people wisely decided not to attempt, by now everyone except for her had already left.

The only reason that she was still there, still dressed in the same sweat-dampened scrubs, was because lately she didn't exactly qualify as sane.

But there was still one person that she was worried about seeing tonight; the only other person who was both stubborn and foolish enough to attempt the same punishing schedule that she had imposed on herself for the past week- Alex.

Healthy or not, they handled stress the same way- by suffocating emotions that they didn't want to feel under an overwhelming landslide of work.

Even when it hadn't been certain whether Meredith would pull through, and it had been clear that he was just barely functioning, Jo had still seen Alex's name scrawled shakily on the surgical board every single day.

So she knew it was likely that he had worked today as well, and the distinct possibility that- despite the ungodly hour- he could still be somewhere in the hospital, twisted her stomach into anxious knots that made the tears fall faster.

She hadn't seen Alex since that awful night, when she had met his guilty eyes through a haze of angry tears that obscured her vision. And the very last thing she wanted was to run into him now on his way to Meredith's room, arms probably full of water-colored paintings from the kids he loved so much, and be pulled into a painfully public conversation about where it had all gone wrong.

Honestly, she didn't want to have a conversation with Alex at all- regardless of where it took place.

He had left at least 20 humbly apologetic voicemails on her cell phone, but she had only listened to the first one; and she had refused to respond to his plea to call him back either.

She just didn't have anything left to say to him, Jo thought wearily as she sniffled. Or at least, she didn't have anything left to say to him that she hadn't already shouted in heated arguments where they tried to avoid what, maybe somewhere deep inside, they had both known all along.

But she couldn't ignore it any longer. Even though it was painful, it was finally time to accept the truth that Alex Karev was hopelessly in love with Meredith Grey. He had been since the very first day they had met; and now Jo realized in defeat that despite what she had hoped, he always would be.

For years, she had been so attached to what she wanted to be true, that she had ignored little warning signs which should have been painfully obvious from the beginning.

Like the way Alex's hand always came to rest so naturally on the small of Meredith's back whenever they stood near each other, or how intimately she let her head fall against his shoulder when something he said made her laugh.

Like the quiet note of reverence that always seemed to seep subconsciously into Alex's tone of voice whenever he said Meredith's name, or how brilliantly her eyes sparkled when she heard it.

And there were also the recurrent trips across Seattle in the middle of the night, when Alex unquestioningly dropped whatever (or whoever) he was doing because his phone was ringing, and it was Meredith's name that came up on his caller ID.

Those midnight trips had always started in a massive fight and ended in angry, vengeful sex, where Jo possessively claimed the one part of Alex she had access to that Meredith didn't. And when she came, she tried to yell his name loudly enough to drown out her insecurities.

Because she knew that after they came back down to earth, once her breathing had slowed and her mind worked again, he would still refuse to tell her where he had gotten the deep, purple scar on his side that her fingers were gently tracing, or why a grown woman would still have so many nightmares.

But she had loved Alex deeply enough to ignore the dread in the pit of her stomach. She had needed him enough that when he kissed her in the way that made her knees go weak and whispered unconvincingly that he and Meredith were just friends, she had swallowed her doubts and forced herself to believe him.

It was only now, in retrospect, that she could see how blind they had both been.

As her aching legs finally stumbled to a stop in front of the elevators that could take her to an empty locker room and a much- needed moment of privacy, Jo dragged an exhausted hand roughly down her face, swiping at the salty liquid still dripping slowly off of her chin.

She felt disgusted by her own naivete; she felt humiliated and angry and hurt and betrayed by his.

But, if she were honest with herself, beneath that tangle of conflicting emotions, there was also a tiny part of her that felt relieved. Because at least now she knew that she wasn't just crazy- or just jealous, or just insecure- or just anything else she'd been telling herself uncertainly over the years.

At least now she knew that her intuition had been right all along.

The elevator was taking far too long to reach her floor, and she didn't want to be alone with her depressing mental spiral any longer. So she huffed impatiently as she jabbed her index finger violently at the 'up' button for the fifth time.

She needed to splash some cold water on her face; she needed to pull her hair up off her sweaty neck and into a ponytail before she threw herself back into the salvation of mind-numbing work again.

But just as the heavy metal doors finally whooshed open in front of her and she was about to step inside the elevator she had been waiting for, Jo heard a rapid clacking of high heels approaching behind her and a familiar voice calling her name.

"Wilson! Hey, just a minute."

The voice started out calm, but when she didn't immediately respond, it seemed to grow exponentially louder with each syllable.

"Wilson? Wilson. Jo!"

Jo sighed deeply, and stole one more moment to settle her jumbled thoughts and rearrange her features into a neutral expression. Then after she had regained her composure, she turned around to find herself face to face with an out- of- breath and flustered Maggie.

"Yes, Dr. Pierce?" Jo forced herself to ask politely, in what she hoped was a steady enough voice not to arouse suspicion. It didn't seem to matter though; Maggie was too distracted by her own problems to worry about her resident's.

"Finally. Did you not hear me yelling, Jo?" She panted when she reached the elevator, smoothing a few unruly curls back into place and trying but failing to mask her annoyance as she demanded, "Are you the resident on- call for tonight?"

Jo hesitated for a few breaths before answering- keeping a tight smile pasted stiffly onto her face. She desperately needed sleep, and for a brief moment she thought about admitting that she was not on the schedule; but one thought of the cold, empty bed waiting for her at home immediately made up her mind for her. Even a miserable double shift was better than being alone with herself, she decided resignedly.

So she bit her lip nervously as she nodded, and blatantly lied to her attending.

"Yes, I am." She confirmed, relieved to hear her voice wavering only a little. "Did you have a patient that you needed me to check on?"

"Yes!" Maggie breathed in relief, closing her eyes to settle some of the stress that Jo could feel radiating from her in waves. "Ok, my pacemaker surgery went unexpectedly long, so I am running very late to take the kids off of Arizona's hands." She started to explain, tripping over her words in her rush.

"I wanted to check in on Meredith one more time before I left for the night, but I-" She chuckled humorlessly. "I am really, really deplorably late. So, if you could do that for me instead and then just text me an update…? You would be a lifesaver."

Maggie's words may have posed a question, but her tone made it abundantly clear that the only acceptable answer was 'yes'. And even before she had finished talking, she was already fishing frantically around in her purse for her keys.

So she didn't notice Jo's already pale face blanch even further as she processed what her boss was telling her to do; and she didn't hear the sharp intake of breath that she drew through clenched teeth. By the time she succeeded in extricating her key fob from the disorganized black hole that was her Birkin bag and glanced up again distractedly, Jo had schooled her panicked expression back into a mask of polite professionalism.

"Meredith?" She distantly heard herself repeat, as she did her best to hide her incredulity at how much the universe hated her behind a hollow smile. "Yes, I can check on… Meredith and update you. That is- that is something that I can definitely do."

She was rambling a little in her shock, but Maggie was still too distracted to either notice or care that her resident on call wasn't exactly exuding confidence. She only nodded and brushed past her into the elevator, already absorbed in her iPhone.

Her slender thumbs flew across the screen as she texted someone- presumably Arizona- with the same speed and precision that she applied in surgery. So even though Jo was still standing there, frozen in stunned disbelief, it was only once the doors began to close between them that Maggie remembered to call out hurriedly,

"Yes, great. Thank you, Wilson!"

Then Jo watched as the doors cut her off with a metallic clang of finality that she could almost feel reverberating in her soul, sentencing her to the exact fate that she had spent weeks avoiding.

She should have just gone home, she thought in frustration as she forced herself to turn and walk reluctantly back toward the surgical recovery wing. The loneliness and bittersweet memories waiting for her in the loft would have been far less excruciating than voluntarily venturing back into the room that now haunted her every waking thought.

She almost felt like she was trapped in a bizarre bad dream and she just needed to wake up. Even as she felt her legs moving and heard the shrill squeak of her shoes against the hospital floors again, she still couldn't quite believe what was happening.

How could Pierce ask her to do this? Jo wondered in confusion. Was she being sadistically punished for some mistake that she couldn't remember? Or was it possible that Maggie genuinely hadn't seen anything strange in what a perpetual fixture Alex had been at Meredith's side lately?

Jo knew that Meredith and Alex had been widely considered an eventuality by everyone at the hospital for years; so she found it hard to believe that the news of their new relationship wouldn't have already ripped through the staff like a wildfire. Vicious experience had taught her that Grey-Sloan was addicted to gossip; and this update was especially juicy.

But now that she thought about it, she realized that no one had approached her with pitying platitudes. No one abruptly stopped talking when she walked into a room, and she wasn't leaving the trail of curious whispers in her wake after passing the nurses' stations that she would have expected.

Maybe they weren't going to publicly embarrass her, she considered in surprise. Maybe Alex was trying to spare her dignity by letting her control the narrative- or maybe he was just waiting until she was ready to accept his offer of closure before he moved on without her.

Regardless of his reasons, protecting her privacy was a noble thing to do; and she had to admit that it was consistent with how respectfully Alex had always treated her. But still, his sensitivity made Jo irrationally angry.

She didn't need him to be all kind and decent and make it hard for her to hold onto her vicious hatred. What she needed was to be able to write him off as just another jerk-faced loser in the long string of jerks and losers that she had dated. She needed to hate him, she thought desperately; because if she didn't, then losing him would be too far too excruciating.

When she stumbled to a stop outside of the room labeled neatly: Grey, M, she felt numb and shaky and nauseous all at once. But after taking a deep breath, she forced herself to reach out and turn the handle anyway and to step reluctantly across the threshold when the door swung silently open before her.

It was difficult to hear the soft beeping of Meredith's monitors over her own loudly pounding heart. But after a few moments of waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, she could see that they were all showing acceptable readings.

Meredith's oxygen levels were great, her blood pressure was holding steady, and it looked like a nurse had just hung a new bag of the TPN that was still being continually administered through her PICC line.

That had been much easier than she had anticipated, Jo thought in relief. Meredith was fine, and she could send an honest tell Maggie that she had fulfilled her commitment.

But just as she was about to step back into the hallway, a familiar rumbling snore that she would recognize anywhere sent her stomach suddenly plummeting into her shoes- like she was riding a rollercoaster that had just gone over an unexpected drop.

In her eagerness to leave as quickly as possible, Jo hadn't even noticed at first that Alex was in the room with Meredith. But now as she turned slowly back around, she saw him immediately, folded uncomfortably into the hard, plastic chair by the side of Meredith's bed.

He was asleep fully dressed and still wearing his rumpled, white lab coat- as if he had sat down to take a break before going home to change and then lost the fight with exhaustion on accident.

This was the first time she had seen Alex in weeks. And despite her complex emotions toward him lately, Jo found her feet carrying her step by tentative step closer to his unconscious form- still drawn to him by the invisible force that always set her pulse racing madly.

He was still pale and unhealthily thin, but he looked a little more like himself again, she thought with relief. And then she hated herself for caring.

She knew that she should leave, but her legs didn't seem to work anymore. She was stuck, immovably glued to her spot in the middle of the floor, helplessly staring at the man she had loved for so long.

As she watched Alex shiver slightly under the direct blast of an ac vent in the ceiling above him, deep furrows between his eyebrows making him look conflicted and exhausted even in sleep, Jo's kind heart betrayed her. Suddenly, she couldn't summon any more of the righteous anger and hatred that had carried her through this week.

Instead, all she could manage to feel for him in that moment was sympathy. And she was forced her to finally face what she had always known to be true: Alex was far from perfect; but he was sincerely, genuinely good.

It would make moving on easier, but she knew that she couldn't just dismiss him as the same as all the other selfish men she had dated over the years either. Because he wasn't Jason, and he wasn't Paul. He had never cheated on her or hurt her or made her feel small.

She had never feared Alex; even when his eyes flashed dark with anger, his strong arms had always been a place of safety.

He had both unwaveringly encouraged her and steadfastly believed in her, including when she didn't have enough faith left to believe in herself. And the hard truth that Jo didn't want to admit was that the very worst he was guilty of now was keeping a secret from her that he hadn't known himself.

She sighed deeply then, letting the last remnants of her burning anger seep away and leave her hollow and cold in its absence. It was pointless to try any longer, she decided in resignation. Because no matter how much she wished she could, she did not hate Alex.

Before she had met him, she hadn't known her worth. The cruel hand that life had dealt her had broken her spirit and eroded her self-esteem so completely, that when Jo had first encountered his adoration, she hadn't been able to understand or receive it.

It was the way he had loved her- imperfectly, yet still so openly and unquestioningly- that had gradually taught her that she was enough. Alex was the reason that she knew she deserved to be someone's everything; he was why she even knew how to feel the anger and betrayal that she had been fighting all week.

And even though it was clear now that Meredith had always been there in his heart too, Alex's love had still healed parts of her that she hadn't even realized were broken. Without his support, she didn't know if she would still have become the powerful, unapologetic woman that she was today. He had changed her, she thought as she gazed miserably at him, in ways that she would be forever grateful for. And for that reason alone, she could never hate him.

She loved him; and that was somehow far worse.

As Jo stood there in the dark, hot tears ran unchecked down her face and dripped off of her chin, leaving dark, wet splotches in the scratchy material of her scrub top.

Making the choice to let go of the life she had dreamed of one day building with Alex was more incredibly painful than she had ever imagined it would be, but she knew deep inside that he deserved happiness as much as she did. And she wanted him to be happy, Jo realized, even if it couldn't be with her.

So she took a shaky breath and swiped the salty tears shakily from her cheeks, and when Alex shivered again, she tugged an unused afghan off the end of Meredith's bed and draped the fuzzy cloth gently over his body.

One of her hands accidentally brushed his shoulder while she was trying to adjust the blanket around him, and she froze, praying desperately that he would not wake up and catch her still caring. He shifted slightly at the contact and mumble something incoherently in his sleep, but after a few nerve-wracking seconds, he sighed and settled back into stillness. And after a few more, Jo released the breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She knew that if he had seen her there, he would have wanted to talk; but she could never translate into articulate speech the depth of what she felt when she looked at him. Although she couldn't explain why even to herself, instinctively Jo understood that what she had needed to let go of her anger wasn't conversation at all- it was this moment of quiet closure.

So before she left to complete the whole list of menial tasks that was certainly waiting for her now that she was the resident on call, she allowed herself to bend slowly down and brush her lips against Alex's forehead once more in a silent goodbye.

Her kiss felt both tender and final- heavy with unspoken forgiveness for all of the pain that he had caused her as well as gratitude for all the joy that they had shared. And when she straightened back up, smoothing a hand over his sleep- tousled hair for the last time, she felt unexplainably lighter and freer.

The aching sense of loss that throbbed in her chest was still there, but now the pain felt slightly more bearable. She knew that she would never forget Alex, and that she was far from being over him; but for the first time all week she was able to believe that one day, maybe she could be. She was able to hope again that maybe one day, she could find her happiness too.

As she crossed back over to the door on silent feet, the room remained still- the only sound the gentle beeping of Meredith's monitors. But there was a prickling sense of awareness on the back of her neck that made her pause with her hand on the doorknob and decide to glance cautiously at the bed again. And when she turned to find a pair of icy blue eyes shining startlingly bright in the dim pre-dawn glow, Jo realized with a sinking feeling of dread that she'd had an audience.

She hadn't done anything wrong, but still, under the weight of Meredith's gaze she felt guilty and exposed, as if the other woman was staring into her soul.

At first, she set her jaw and glared warily back, wondering how much Meredith had seen. But the longer she held her gaze, the more Jo's initial defensiveness faded.

There was no glint of triumph in Meredith's stare; her eyes held no possessiveness or condescension, or any of the other things that Jo might have expected to see there under the circumstances. Instead, the soft lines of Meredith's expression communicated a quiet understanding and empathy that took her completely by surprise.

The silence stretched tensely between them for a long moment, until Meredith's fragile whisper broke it.

"Jo, I'm so sorry." She breathed into the darkness. "I didn't know…we didn't know until now."

Each hoarse word trembled with a vulnerability that suggested she knew the pain that Jo was experiencing all too well. And when she murmured regretfully,

"We would never want to hurt you."

willingly suffering through obvious discomfort to use her still unhealed vocal cords, she sounded so sincere that Jo found herself reluctantly believing her.

In that moment, she was reminded of how little she knew about Meredith- how little she had heard of her carefully guarded past. But as they shared a long look of wordless understanding, Jo thought that in another lifetime and under different circumstances, they would have been friends. She got the feeling that the two of them were more alike than she had anticipated.

She still wanted someone to blame, but she didn't hate Meredith either, she thought defeatedly. How could she? Lying there in a hospital bed, bruised and weak and small, Meredith wasn't untouchable Medusa anymore. She was just another woman who had been through more than her fair share of trauma and heartache in life- and if Alex was her chance at happiness, then she deserved to take it. If their roles were reversed, Jo knew that she would do the same.

So she just dipped her head in quiet acknowledgement of both what Meredith had said aloud and all the unspoken words that hung thick in the still air between them. And after she had swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat, she answered honestly,

"I know. Just-" She trailed off, breathing deeply as she struggled to gather her thoughts, before finishing in a voice thick with emotion,

"Promise me that you will love him as well as he loves you."

She was crying again, she realized distantly, but she wasn't alone this time; there were crystal tears shining in Meredith's eyes too.

Meredith didn't speak anymore, but after a long moment she nodded slowly, and Jo was satisfied with the answer that she read in the solemn motion:

"I promise."


	20. Chapter 20

When Meredith woke up unreasonably early the next morning to the clatter of meal trays coming around to all the patients on her floor, she groaned miserably. She didn't know what day it was, or what time it was, but she did know that she was far from ready to leave the warm cocoon of sleep she was wrapped cozily up in.

She had lain awake in the darkness long after her unexpected exchange with Jo last night, unable to slow her racing thoughts or calm her colliding emotions. She had been living in a bubble of bliss ever since Alex had said that he loved her, and until last night, she hadn't remembered to consider what had to end in order for their relationship to begin. But there had been such deep sadness in Jo's hazel eyes as she had stared at Alex, that Meredith had felt a twinge of guilty regret creep into her heart, marring her joy for the first time.

She had spent years thinking that Alex's girlfriends could never be worthy of him; and secret jealousy that she had studiously refused to acknowledge had led her to treat them all with a certain level of aloof coolness- including Jo. Until Meredith had watched the younger woman press a tender kiss to Alex's forehead that she knew she wasn't supposed to have seen. Their eyes had met, and in that moment, she had been moved with sudden compassion for Jo and stunned by how much of herself she saw in the loneliness haunting her gaze.

The memory drew a heavy sigh from Meredith's chapped lips, and she rubbed her gritty eyes in weary resignation- there would be no more sleep for her just then. Her head throbbed painfully as she sat gingerly up in bed, and she moaned miserably, longing for what felt like the millionth time over the past month for a steaming mug of the coffee she was no longer able to drink. The TPN would keep her alive and nourished until her system healed enough to tolerate solid food, but lately the liquid calories were failing to suppress her hunger, and she was quickly growing tired of the constant gnawing emptiness in her stomach.

Between the lack of the sleep, the hunger, and the grouchiness that her caffeine craving was causing, she knew it probably wasn't the most ideal time to dissect the unsearchable complexities of love right then. But even though she did her best to quiet the uneasiness twisting in the pit of her stomach, she couldn't help considering again what Alex had said to her when he had taken her hand in his and refused to let her push him away.

He had told her that he was an adult who could make his own decisions; and she was the decision he had made. She just wished she could go back to losing herself in the elation of being chosen without taking responsibility for the fallout it had caused.

She hadn't set out to steal Alex away from Jo, Meredith thought uncomfortably. She knew how it felt to lose the man you love to another woman, and she would never intentionally inflict that kind of pain on anyone. The love between them wasn't contrived either one had contrive; she had never 'set her cap' for Alex- and he didn't think of her as the final conquest of some long- term strategy. Their relationship had grown organically out of the gradual melding of their hearts and lives, evolving into deeper intimacy with every experience they weathered together. Until one morning, she had woken up beside Alex and realized quietly that she couldn't imagine ever being without him again.

Her conscience was clear, and this miraculous second chance at love that she had never expected to be offered had given her an excitement for the future that had been missing for years. But even still, she still couldn't help wishing that her happiness didn't have to come at the expense Jo's.

Life was messy, Meredith thought with a sigh of regret as she massaged her aching temples, and so was love. It was difficult to watch Jo learning the same hard lesson that life had mercilessly pounded into her when she had been that young and naïve: that there were no such things as fairytales, that people were not only good or bad, and that love often came mingled with pain. But she was better now for the knowing that everything exists in this beautiful tension of duality; and Meredith knew that in the end, Jo would be too.

Just before she had slipped out of the room last night, Jo had asked her to make a promise that had felt like a final release of Alex's heart from her safekeeping, and the quiet acceptance in her voice had flooded Meredith's chest with a wave of grateful relief. Because she knew would never have been able to build the life with Alex that she saw when she closed her eyes without the gift of Jo's blessing.

So as she she sat there, still in the midst of the hospital bustle, she felt a fresh wave of gratitude wash over her for her resident's impressive maturity. Jo's dignified kindness even in such a personally difficult moment was a testament to the strength of character that Meredith had grown to grudgingly admire, and she had every confidence now that one day she would find someone who would love her as completely as she deserved. And when that day came, Meredith would make sure to be the one cheering for her happiness the loudest.

With that final resolution, her swirling thoughts settled again- at least for the moment. And Meredith finally opened her eyes to the morning light that had been stabbing her eyelids, turning to smile a grateful good morning at the man that she still couldn't believe she got to call hers. But, she realized after a confused glance around her empty room, for the first time all week Alex wasn't there.

She had fallen asleep to the sound of his husky voice last night, listening peacefully as he recounted the steps of a complicated surgery he had performed earlier. But now the plastic chair he had been slumped in sat empty by the window, and even though she told herself not to be pathetic, Meredith still felt a chill of sudden loneliness settle icily into her bones. Somehow, even in just one week, she had already become so accustomed to Alex's reassuring presence that being without him now felt strange and wrong.

She glanced at the whiteboard in case he had left her a note to explain where he had gone, but it was disappointingly clean and blank; and when she clumsily lifted her iPhone off of the nightstand by her bed and pressed the home button, there were no new text messages from him displayed on her lock screen either.

Sensibly, she knew that he had probably only left to shower or change out of the rumpled work clothes he had accidentally fallen asleep in and had just forgotten to say goodbye. Rationally, she knew that she had no reason to panic and every reason to expect to see him walking through the door of her room again later that night, wearing the smile that never failed to fill her stomach with butterflies.

But the universe had stolen so many people from her without warning that now whenever the loved ones she had left were out of her sight, logic was powerless against the uncontainable tide of worry that rose higher and higher in her chest until she saw them again.

Even though she was embarrassed at the thought of letting him see the permanent scars that trauma had carved into her psyche, Meredith stared at her phone for a long moment, seriously considering calling Alex- just to assuage the anxiety already causing to her heart to beat a little faster. But before her hovering finger could press the green icon next to his name and make the call, a sudden buzzing in her palm made her jump in surprise, and then her ringtone filled the silence of her room with unexpected sound as Cristina's smiling face lit up the screen.

Cristina Yang would like to FaceTime, tiny white letters beneath the picture informed her, and once her heartrate returned to normal, Meredith eagerly pressed Accept- inexpressibly glad for the timely distraction of her best friend's company.

She smiled broadly as the call connected, momentarily forgetting her mouthful of jarring metal wires in her excitement. It was only when Cristina's initial bright smile of greeting was replaced by a shocked gasp, and her olive tan blanched as white as the office wall behind her that Meredith realized in panic that they hadn't seen each other since the attack.

She had missed so many of their weekly Skype sessions while she had been recovering, she realized then as she stared wordlessly into the other woman's wide- eyed stare of horror. Amid the maelstrom of physical pain and mental distress she had been fighting though, she hadn't even thought to ask Alex to update their best friend on what was happening.

But he had, right? Meredith half wondered, half pleaded with the universe. And even if he hadn't, someone must have; because she knew Cristina Yang, the passing of years couldn't soften her fiery determination. Even though it was now tempered slightly by maturity, she had retained every bit of the stubborn tenacity that had defined her as an intern, and Meredith was certain that she would never have just accepted weeks of unexplained radio silence.

Still Cristina was still stared, motionless and uncharacteristically speechless, and Meredith felt her initial excitement at the prospect of hearing her friend's voice again beginning to waver, tainted by a growing sense of dismay. She could tell from the unshed tears glistening in Cristina's eyes that even if she had spoken with one of her friends, whatever they had told her had done nothing to prepare her for the stark reality of the tragic situation.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious and ashamed of her battered appearance, Meredith ducked her head and let her greasy hair tumble around her face-shielding her from the obvious pain and confusion she could see written plainly in every line of Cristina's pixelated expression. Even after she noticed Meredith's embarrassment and tried to hastily rearrange her features into a mask of more subdued concern, the damage had been done. No matter how inscrutable she seemed to others, Meredith had always been able to read Cristina like an open book.

Day to day, it was easy to forget just how bad she looked; because her friends were used to her injuries by now, and her nurses were well- practiced at remaining positive and professional in the face of tragedy, and even mottled with bruises and wearing unflattering hospital gowns she still sometimes caught Alex surreptitiously gazing at her like she was the most gorgeous creation he had ever seen.

But the little image of herself that she saw filling the box in the bottom right corner of her phone's Facetime screen now was a ruthless reminder that she was only a ghost of herself- all sharp angles and hollowed cheeks and tangled, limp hair. The slowly healing bruises surrounding her eyes and the imprints of Lou's handprints on her neck had faded, but now instead of purple they were a very unflattering shade of yellow that washed her out, somehow making her sallow skin look even paler than it really was.

So when Cristina finally lowered her trembling hand from her lips to breathe unsteadily, "Oh Mer…" Meredith understood that the terror and shock she could hear seeping into her words were more than warranted.

"What the- what the hell happened?" Cristina asked shakily after a long moment, when Meredith still didn't move or speak. "Owen never said it was this bad." And the tears that had filled her expressive almond eyes spilled over then to slip silently down the smooth curve of her cheeks, glistening in the light of her desk lamp until one hand angrily swiped them away.

"What- was he trying to protect me? I am going to kill him." Cristina continued, the quiver in her voice making her hissed threat far less convincing than Meredith thought she had intended it to be. "I'm going to get on a plane in spite of my crippling fears, and show up at that chivalrous idiot's door, and literally murder him in his damn sleep!"

By now there were fat tears rolling unheeded down her own cheeks too, but despite her emotions, Meredith couldn't suppress the quiet chuckle that rose to her lips at Cristina's outburst. So much of her life had been turned upside down without warning lately, but Cristina's loyal indignance felt reliably constant, like a safe haven in the midst of uncertainty. Her words weren't gentle or even particularly bracing, but they were predictably Cristina. And in that moment, Meredith thought they were exactly what she had needed to hear

The unexpected sound of Meredith's hoarse laughter surprised Cristina, making her pause her tirade abruptly to raise a questioning eyebrow at her friend. But after a second, she laughed too- just a hollow burst of mirthless sound that came crackling jarringly over the phone's speakers- as she let her head drop heavily into her hands, shoulders shaking violently.

Meredith waited compassionately for Cristina to compose herself, feeling a sudden whisper of guilt for springing such a horrific discovery on her- even unintentionally. She couldn't even imagine how terrified she would be to hear that something similar had happened to Cristina, thousands of miles around the world, where she was powerless to do anything about it. She didn't like the flash of wild panic that flared up in her chest when she tried.

So she understood the grief and devastation that she saw shining in Cristina's dark eyes when she sat up again, the heat of her anger gone as suddenly as it had appeared. And she understood every ounce of the misguided guilt that she heard in her broken whisper, because it's what she would feel too.

"I'm so, so sorry, Meredith." Cristina murmured sincerely. "When I talked to Owen last month, he said that Alex was a complete wreck, and I… I should have known it was worse than he was letting on. He said not to worry, and that you would be fine; but when I couldn't reach Alex, I should have known."

She was rambling like she always did when she was upset, her words tumbling past her lips too quickly to be fully comprehensible, but Meredith understood them anyway. And she shook her head gently in silent denial of the apology that her friend didn't owe.

"If I had known I would have come." Cristina stated earnestly, her voice dipping low as her wide eyes pleaded with Meredith to believe her, to forgive her for not being there. "I can still come. Do you want me to come?"

Cristina's honest offer took Meredith by surprise, and the silence stretched deafeningly between them as she paused for a long moment, deep in thought.

Of course she wanted to see Cristina again; she had felt her absence keenly every time her room was filled with their friends and one head of unruly black curls was always missing. But despite the aching in her heart, still she hesitated to say yes.

Meredith knew how driven Cristina was and how successful she had been in Switzerland; she was fiercely proud of all the innovations her friend and Shane had pioneered, and she would never want to selfishly pull her away from all of that.

She also knew that although Cristina joked about it so flippantly, the PTSD from the plane crash they had survived still haunted her in a way that was far from funny. It was the only reason that she hadn't visited before: after Ellis was born, or when Meredith had won her Harper Avery. Coming back to Seattle now would undoubtedly be a deeply traumatic experience for her.

Meredith desperately wanted wrap her arms around Cristina again in a tight hug that her friend would tolerate from no one else; she wanted to laugh until her broken ribs burned at her special brand of macabre humor, to forget that it would be months before she could hold a scalpel again by listening to stories of her friend's interesting surgeries, and maybe even share the still surreal news that the romantic aspect of her relationship with Alex which Cristina had been teasing her about for years had finally become blissful reality.

But she couldn't be so selfish, Meredith thought regretfully. She couldn't put her best friend through so much pain when it wasn't absolutely necessary. She wasn't alone; she had Arizona and Callie and Bailey and Alex and Maggie, she thought, suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for their kindness. Because of them, she knew she really would be ok.

So when Cristina prodded gently, "Mer?"

She shook her head again and whispered hoarsely past the pain in her throat,

"No, Cris. Owen was right; I'm ok."

And the relief that blossomed in Cristina's eyes and the tension that seeped slowly from her shoulders told Meredith that she had made the right choice.

A few minutes later in a separate wing of the hospital, Alex was scrubbing out of emergency surgery when his phone rang-vibrating in his back pocket so abruptly that it startled him.

He hadn't originally been scheduled to work today, but Arizona had shaken him awake at 3 am to hiss urgently through the darkness,

"Alex! Go grab some coffee and meet me in OR 3. It's Devonte Jones."

And he had done as she had asked without question, knowing from the tenseness in her voice that it would be bad even before his sleep fogged mind could place the name.

He had been right, he realized with regret once he got there. 5-year-old Devonte was their terminal intestinal cancer patient who had just presented to the ER with an emergent blockage, and Robbins had wanted his help to remove a portion of the necrotic bowel.

Or at least, she had said she wanted his help.

It was a complicated surgery when the organs were healthy, and even more so when they were this friable, so it was completely feasible that Arizona would want an extra pair of capable hands. But as they worked in easy tandem, Alex had studied her blue eyes carefully over her surgical mask. And the glassy tears he had seen glistening there as she stitched and cauterized made him suspect that she really had just wanted his moral support during such an emotionally difficult case.

So even though he was exhausted and stiff from the awkward position he had accidentally fallen asleep in the night before, he had stayed. He knew that Arizona been there for him in many ways over the past few terrifying weeks, and he was glad for an opportunity to return some of her kindness.

Still, he thought now with a sigh as he carefully lathered soap between each finger, such an intense surgery had been a rough way to start the day. It always hurt when he knew that he wasn't giving the kids he operated on back their health- only buying them a little more time. And he was hardly in any frame of mind to just then to keep his voice steady and string words together in coherent sentences. So rather than pulling his phone from his pocket to answer the incoming call, he ignored it and stretched his hands out beneath the steady stream of scalding water flowing from the faucet instead.

Whoever it was would call back if they had something important to say, he thought dismissively.

The heat of the water felt soothing against his skin and he let it run longer than he honestly needed to, closing his eyes and wishing it was the cleansing spray of a shower and that he was back home in the coziness of Mer's quiet house rather than standing alone in an echoing hospital scrub room.

He was tired and sweaty from both the day before and the anxiety of the morning, his stomach was growling uncomfortably and the muscles in his neck and back complained angrily every time he moved- punishing him for spending the night curled up in a chair that was much too small for his long frame.

He was old, Alex thought wryly, shaking his head at how quickly the time had passed. It felt like just yesterday that he had been able to spend a night on a lumpy gurney in the tunnels surrounded by noise, then wake up to pull a triple shift without blinking an eye, and somehow still show up at Jo's for drinks later on, maybe tired but fully functioning. Now all he wanted to do was just to eat something for the first time all week that hadn't come from the hospital cafeteria; or to take some Advil and a long nap in an actual bed, with an actual pillow.

He had just shut off the water and was drying his dripping hands on a scratchy hospital scrub towel as he tried to decide which bodily demand he would meet first, when his phone buzzed against his thigh again. And this time, with a sigh of resignation, he pulled it out and hit answer.

"This is Karev." He greeted wearily, without glancing at caller ID to see who he was talking to. But he knew immediately who it was as soon as he heard a familiar voice snap angrily in response,

"Hi, Karev. Did you have a stroke? Or a secret, emergency brain surgery that left you a vegetable? It has to be one of the two, because I can't come up with any other explanation for what could turn you into such a damn idiot!"

The words belonged undeniably to Cristina; and the frustration they contained seemed to reach out through the phone and grab Alex as powerfully as if she had been standing right in front of him instead of half the world away. With a deep groan, he scrubbed one clean hand down his sweaty face as he leaned back to brace himself against the sink. Because he could guess exactly what had caused this unexpected phone call.

"You talked to Mer." He stated quietly, his voice sounding strangely flat and empty even though there were a thousand different emotions swirling fiercely inside his chest.

"Yes, I talked to Mer." Cristina hissed bitterly in his ear. "And after one look at her I look wanted to fly down there and put my foot through her patient's face until they matched."

He couldn't judge his friend for the burning rage he heard behind her words; not when just the mention of Lou still stirred an answering heat in his chest, rekindling the embers of his own wrath that he had done his best to smother beneath forgiveness. The feeling was so unexpectedly visceral that Alex felt like his throat was beginning to close up, and all he managed to choke out in response to Cristina was a strangled murmur of understanding. But it was enough; the three of them -he and Mer and Cris- had never needed words, and mercifully, some things never changed.

He could hear her heavy breathing come crackling over the phone line for a long time, but even when the silence made him wonder if she had hung up, Alex waited respectfully for Cristina to compose herself.

He felt responsible for her grief in a way- partially because blaming himself for the pain of everyone around him was one of his most toxic and prominent personality traits- but also because it really was his fault that she had found out the truth of the attack this way. He had been so lost in his own fear and devastation that for a while the whole world had selfishly narrowed to just him and Meredith. He couldn't go back in time and remind himself to call the only other person who might love Mer just as much as he did, but he could at least offer her the courtesy of carrying this long overdue conversation on her own terms.

So he didn't speak until Cristina finally broke the silence, asking softly,

"Alex, why didn't you call?"

The rage had faded from her voce now, leaving behind a defeated trepidation that stirred the fragments of a half-forgotten memory somewhere in the back of Alex's mind. He had heard her use this tone only once before, many years ago, while they had sat shoulder to shoulder on the cold floor outside of the same OR he was standing in now, holding vigil while Meredith and baby Bailey fought for their lives. And it stirred the same uneasiness in his gut now as it had then.

The first two times they had almost lost Meredith- two days their world had come crashing to a sudden stop and slipped off its axis- they'd had each other to lean on for support. But now they were alone, Alex thought grimly, separated by years and miles. And he realized that he missed his friend more deeply than he had understood until that moment.

So he murmured compassionately, "Cris, I'm sorry."

He could only imagine what his Cristina was feeling. If he were in her place, he knew he would have already put his fist through a wall somewhere.

He hadn't shared his feelings with anyone since this whole hellish experience had begun. He had just been doing his best to be strong and supportive for Mer and her kids, and ignoring the relentless terror that was still eating away at him inside, even as Meredith was slowly beginning to improve. But he felt no pressure to put on a brave front for Cristina, not when he could hear trembling in her voice the same pain he felt every time he had to watch the woman he loved struggle to do something as simple as sit up by herself. So, drawing a steadying breath, Alex closed his eyes and confessed hesitantly into the phone,

"When I found out about the attack, I um.. I just shut down. She's such a force of nature usually, you know? But she looked so small and broken on that gurney..." He had to pause for a moment when his voice suddenly cracked, to clear his throat self-consciously before continuing vulnerably, "At first, I wasn't even sure if she would make it off Hunt's table. It's been hell, the not knowing. And even up until just last week, it was like all I could see when I closed my eyes was how she looked when Derek pulled her out of the Sound."

"I meant to call you." He said softly, his words heavy with the weight of the guilt he felt. "I'm sorry. But for a while, I could barely even remember my own name, or what damn day it was." He finished quietly.

In the wake of his raw honesty, Alex felt uncomfortably exposed. He was unused to being this vulnerable with anyone but Meredith, but he didn't regret his choice to share, he realized. It was a relief to finally release some of his pent up emotions to someone who would understand. Like he had hoped, Cristina hadn't scoffed at him, or dismissed the memories that haunted him with an unfeeling reminder that the past was in the past. She knew better than anyone how tragedies of the past could become a permanent part of the present, so she just listened to his torrent of breathless words. And when Alex finished talking, she accepted his apology with two quiet words.

"I know."

Cristina sighed deeply, and he thought that if they were in the same room, he would see the emotions he felt mirrored in her eyes too. But whether it had really been there or not, the brief flash of reciprocal vulnerability had disappeared, replaced with grim determination when she commanded softly,

"But now, tell me everything."

Reliving the hell that he had only just begun to feel like Meredith might be finally starting to push her way out of was the very last thing that Alex wanted to do. But he knew that after unforgivably neglecting to update Cristina- breaking the promise he had made when she had solemnly passed her duties as Meredith's person on to him- catching her up now was the least that he could do. And he couldn't have argued with her anyway, even if he had wanted to, her commanding presence was as undeniable now as it ever had been- unaffected by time or distance.

So after a few seconds of mental preparation, Alex took a deep breath then haltingly began to list all of the technical details of Meredith's extensive injuries, despite the nausea he felt churning more violently in the pit of his stomach with each word. It was just as excruciating to hear the second time; and by the time he had finished, Cristina was sobbing and the sweat that had been only a thin sheen on his forehead before was now rolling down the hollow of his muscular back in salty rivulets.

"Listen, what you saw today is good, Cristina." He murmured gently, trying to offer her some of the newfound hope that Mer's kisses had kindled in his jaded heart.

"Mer looks great compared to a month ago. She has a long way to go, but she'll get there. She's going to be ok." He promised, as much to reassure himself as to comfort his grieving friend. He couldn't see her, but he imagined Cristina impatiently swiping the uncharacteristic tears from her face as she instructed shakily,

"Well if she's not ok, Alex, promise that you will tell me. I have plenty of Xanax to keep me knocked out for the flight; if Mer needs me, I will be there in less than 12 hours."

And when Alex answered solemnly, he meant every ounce of the steely resolve he heard echoing in his voice.

"I promise."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All! Just wanted to say that chapter updates are going to be a bit more spaced out now, because I'm back to school. But don't worry, they are still coming. :)

Chapter 21

"All right, Dr. Grey, follow the light please." Stephanie said cheerfully a few days later, and Alex watched closely from his perch on the edge of the narrow bed as the young intern ran yet another PERRLA test to check Meredith's neurological function.

A different intern had come in to run the same tedious tests every day since Mer had woken up from her withdrawal delirium, and Alex was sure that by now the procedure must be getting old.

Sure enough, a quick glance at Meredith's face revealed the irritation that she wasn't bothering to hide. Although she still complied with Edwards' request, Alex noticed her already sullen expression darken into a frustrated scowl. He knew it was meant to communicate her hot displeasure to their friends, but even though he felt compassion for Mer's mood, he couldn't help stifling a fond smile- because he secretly found her pouted lips and drawn eyebrows comically adorable. And it was fortunate that he did, he thought wryly, because a gloomy pout was the only expression her face had worn for the past few days- at least for everyone but him.

The day after Cristina's call, Bailey had arrived to triumphantly announce that Meredith could finally move from the step- down room where she had spent the past month to a normal room on the main recovery floor, and Alex had been so thrilled at the tangible sign of her progress that he had worn an irrepressible grin for the rest of the night.

But Mer had seemed far less excited about her new surroundings, he mused thoughtfully now. In fact, that's when her low mood had started.

The main recovery wing understandably got much more traffic than her step-down room had, which meant much more noise. And as a result, they had spent a very restless couple of nights. Alex had compensated for two nights of less than 4 hrs of sleep by ordering triple espressos from the coffee cart outside in the courtyard, but Mer didn't have the same luxury.

And on top of the sleep deprivation that was undoubtedly helping to make her irritable, Alex suspected that the unfamiliar environment and the new nurses that came with the new room might be triggering her anxiety again. Mer had never told him that she suffered from anxiety in so many words, but he had known since he'd seen Shepherd following her into a supply closet, over 15 years ago now. He was always careful to monitor state of her mental health- even more so now in the wake of the morphine 'incident'- and he and Bailey had both agreed that she had seemed to be steadily improving over the past week.

He would never have anticipated that the move and the progress it represented would do anything other than infuse Meredith the same quiet hope it had offered him, but unexpectedly, it had seemed to do the opposite. She looked depressed, Alex thought worriedly, as he watched her scowl stormily at everyone in the room.

He suddenly missed the brilliant smiles that he had taken such pride in being able to bring to her lips; it was becoming difficult to maintain his own hard- fought positivity when every morning he woke up to find her more and more concerningly pale and withdrawn.

Meredith sighed deeply when she felt Alex reach across the bed to thread his warm fingers through her cold ones and squeeze sympathetically, sweeping one calloused thumb back and forth across her knuckles in an obvious attempt to soothe the nerves she knew he could see. But even though she appreciated the little gesture, she didn't reciprocate; after the past few nights, it was hard to find the energy to do anything but stare.

"I'm all done! No neuro deficits since yesterday." Stephanie declared brightly then. And once the intern switched of her annoying light, Meredith squeezed her burning eyes shut in relief, feeling tears from not blinking for so long roll down her cheeks.

"Dr. Hunt?" Stephanie asked, stepping aside to make room for the man who had been hovering so silently over by the charts that Meredith had almost forgotten he was there until now. As her old friend took Stephanie's place, he smiled at her apologetically, and the kindness she saw in his eyes almost made Meredith feel bad for the glare she met his gaze with. Almost.

"I know, I know, you hate me." Owen joked gently as he lifted the covers off of her casted leg, infuriatingly unphased by her anger.

"Can you try to lift this leg for me, please?" He asked politely.

For a second, Meredith laid stubbornly still, turning her head into her pillows to momentarily block out the concerned faces around her bed. She was just so tired of all of this, she thought wearily, tired of the pity and the pain and the lumpy mattresses and the maddening interruptions to her sleep every two hours.

She longed to home again in her own comfortable king sized pillowtop, where the sheets smelled like laundry detergent instead of bleach, and where the only people who woke her up in the middle of the night had pudgy hands that wound around her neck so endearingly that she didn't mind, and sweet little voices that called her mama.

Someone had been asking her to attempt this exercise every day for the last few weeks, and at first, she had cooperated, but she had no willpower today. She had no resolve to endure the quivering burn of trying to lift her heavy cast with weakened muscles; she had no desire to be reminded again of how embarrassingly helpless she was.

But Owen was still waiting patiently by her side, watching her with gentle empathy that brought angry tears to her eyes, and she knew that complying was the only way to get him out of her room. So she drew a reluctant breath and did her best to narrow her focus to the comforting motions of Alex's thumb still brushing soothingly against her clammy skin. Then, with a grunt of strangled effort, she managed to raise her casted leg 12 inches off the mattress, fighting through the immediate strain in her atrophied muscles.

"Good!" She distantly heard Owen exclaim through the rushing that filled her ears. "That's good, Mer. Decent mobility in that hip."

Then suddenly Alex was murmuring in her ear, his hot breath puffing against her cheek as he said in unsuccessfully concealed concern for her obvious discomfort, "Ok, Mer. You did it."

And when she felt his hands catch her leg, taking the weight just before she couldn't hold it any longer, she sighed in relief and let him gingerly lower the casted limb back to the bed again.

Meredith closed her eyes in obvious relief when his hands caught her leg, and Alex felt his heart wrench painfully at how spent she looked from just such a small action. He knew that the exercise was designed to protect her mobility, and that it was a vital first step in preparing for physical therapy, but in that moment he was irrationally tempted to copy Meredith and level Owen with an angry glare of his own. He had always hated to see her in pain, but lately it was becoming more and more of a struggle to detach from his emotions and think like the doctor he was supposed to be, instead of just a devastated man in love.

He really shouldn't have even helped her to lower the leg back down, he thought guiltily, carefully avoiding Owen and Stephanie's scoldingly raised eyebrows. But he just hadn't been able to help himself. He had always hated to see Meredith in pain, and lately it was becoming more and more of a struggle to detach from his emotions and think like the doctor he was supposed to be, instead of just another man who was desperately in love.

"This is why we don't let family work on family." He heard Hunt mutter softly under his breath, almost as if he had heard Alex's thoughts. But even though he was right, he sounded more amused than reproachful. So Alex glanced up to smirk at his friend defiantly, knowing that he wasn't the only one in the room who had a soft spot for this particular patient.

"Everyone in this damn room is her family," he murmured softly in reply, and before he glanced down at Meredith's slender fingers, still tightly clutching his, he saw Owen nod in silent agreement.

After a quiet minute, Owen reclaimed his attention by clearing his throat, and prudently giving up on the still stonily silent woman between them, he addressed only Alex.

"Alex, she's looking great." He said honestly. "We're all finished here for today."

Then he pulled off his used gloves in one well- practiced motion and turned to go. But just before he shut the door, he paused to call over his shoulder as an afterthought. "Oh hey- Bailey wanted me to let you know that she'll be by later with some good news…?"

And Alex felt an eager smile rise to his lips as he nodded in silent thanks. Because he already knew what that good news would be, and he had a feeling it was just what Meredith needed to snap out of her bad mood.

As the door clicked shut behind their friends, he turned his attention back to Meredith, and said encouragingly, "You hear that, Mer? You'll be ready for PT any day now. You ready to finally get out of this bed?"

But she didn't match his enthusiasm. The only response he received was a noncommittal shrug as she panted loudly through parted lips, still trying to recover from the slight exertion. And as he used the sleeve of his shirt to gently wipe away an errant bead of sweat sliding down her glistening forehead, Alex had to fight to keep the smile pasted on his face.

He knew that Bailey wanted to be there when they told Meredith the good news they had decided on the other night, but as he stared helplessly at the miserable expression on the face of the woman he loved he couldn't wait any longer. He needed to see the slow smile that she saved only for him again, the one that lit up her blue eyes with a dazzling sparkle and crinkled her perfect nose and exposed all of the metal wires in her mouth because she was too happy to care in that moment how she looked. And he knew that his news would bring it back.

He would much rather endure Bailey's stormy scowl than Meredith's because the displeasure of the Chief, however unpleasant, wouldn't make his heart feel like it was being ripped apart at the seams. So he decided not to wait any longer.

Meredith was so busy wallowing in her misery that she didn't hear Alex at first. So she didn't turn to face him until he tried again, jiggling her hand to get her attention as he said suddenly,

"Hey, Mer. You know the good news that Hunt mentioned just now?"

His voice was so full of tangible excitement that despite her hopeless mood, Meredith found her curiosity piqued. So she mumbled "Mmmhmm" in cautious response, studying his face for clues as she waited for him to continue.

Alex's eyes danced with something akin to mischief as he grinned at her, and the way that the expression softened the sharp lines of weariness that the stress of the past few months had carved into his face sent a little ghost of a smile to haunt her chapped lips. He had looked so wrecked for so long and seeing him this happy again stirred a feeling of warm contentment in her soul, lightening some of her dark mood.

Alex was already answering her, she realized suddenly when she saw his lips moving rapidly, but she had missed the first half of what he was saying. He was always thoughtfully careful to enunciate clearly and speak slowly; but in his excitement, he must have forgotten that he had sat down on her right side to make room for Owen and Stephanie, and his words were too quiet for her injured ear to understand.

The unwelcome reality that after so long her hearing was still so deficient brought the frustration that had momentarily ebbed in the face of Alex's contagious excitement flooding back into Meredith's chest, and even though she wasn't really angry at him, she felt a dark scowl settle back over her features as she tapped her ear, frustratedly asking him to repeat the words she had missed.

Alex didn't react to the sudden flare of her temper, and she felt a pang of guilt for her irritation when she watched his expression soften in sympathy. Realizing his mistake, he quickly stood up and crossed to the other side of her bed, sinking carefully down onto the mattress near her good ear, and resting one warm palm distractingly high up on her thigh.

"Sorry. Is this better?" He asked kindly, oblivious to the goosebumps running up and down her spine at his intoxicating proximity. And it was all Meredith could do to focus on his words instead of his touch enough to nod in response.

"Ok. So I was saying, you know that good news that Hunt mentioned?" He continued eagerly. "Well, I talked to Bailey last night about weaning you off of the TPN, and your liver function on your last LFT looked great, soo… she said we could start tonight."

He paused then, chocolate brown eagerly searching her face to gauge her reaction. But she felt frozen in disbelieving shock. She was unable to do anything but stare blankly at him for such a long moment that some of the excitement lighting up his face began to dim.

"Mer, this is great news." He finally prompted softly. "This means you can start working toward solid food again. Remember pizza? And getting that fragile PICC line out is one step closer to seeing the kids."

"Mmm hmm." She mumbled shakily. blinking back stinging tears of gratitude.

Meredith knew what graduating from the TPN meant; she had been dreaming about it for weeks. But now that the stage of her recovery she had been awaiting so impatiently had finally arrived, she felt none of the elated energy that she had expected to rush electrifyingly through her veins. Instead of celebrating with giddy laughter or anticipatory questions, she found herself blinking back stinging tears.

She didn't normally cry so much, she thought, embarrassed. But this excruciating period of recovery had been a different kind of trauma than she had ever suffered before, and she had none of her usual methods of avoidance. There was no bottle of tequila to numb her emotions, no complicated surgery to bury them in; nothing to hold back the sudden flood of uncontrollable tears that relief sent cascading down her cheeks yet again.

With a huff of frustration, she swiped at them; feeling suddenly intensely aware of how many times Alex had seen her break down over the past weeks. What must he think of her now? She wondered in humiliation.

Even though he had proved repeatedly that he wanted to be with her no matter what, it would take time to fully heal the insecurities that her past had carved so deeply into her heart. And in that moment, Meredith still half expected to feel the bed creak as he stood up and walked out of the room in exasperation or disgust at her weakness.

But rather than the sound of a slamming door and the sudden cold of his absence, she felt strong arms gathering her into a warm embrace. Somehow, Alex understood that her tears were an expression of joy instead of sorrow. There was no annoyance in his gentle chuckle, only love; and when Meredith glanced up to meet his gaze, she thought she saw moisture shining suspiciously in his own eyes too.

"I know, honey." Alex whispered, using the term of endearment for the very first time so unconsciously that her breath caught in her throat and her stomach fluttered with something more intense than just surprise. "I know. It's about damn time, huh?"

Yes. She thought emphatically. It's about damn time.

They stayed there for a few quiet moments- until her tears stopped, and her breathing calmed, and the comforting rhythm of Alex's heart beneath her ear was the only sound in the room. But just before she could work up enough courage to act on the desire swelling in her chest and press her lips to his, Bailey's voice shattered the stillness as she boomed suddenly from the doorway,

"Well Karev, I guess this means you told her."

Meredith felt Alex jump beside her- no doubt as startled by the Chief's unexpected intrusion as she was- but he didn't take the heat of his arms from around her shoulders. And she was glad.

By unspoken agreement, they were keeping the new intimacy in their relationship a secret for a while longer. But Alex seemed to already understand what the lack of surprise on Bailey's face as she took in their cozy position told Meredith- that the love between them had been obvious to the woman who had raised them long before they had realized it themselves.

"You just couldn't wait for me? That hug was mine." Bailey scolded, waving one short finger at Alex's chest in an attempt at reproach. But the gleam in Bailey's eyes betrayed her words, so he grinned up at his mentor unrepentantly and tugged Meredith just a little closer to his side.

"First come, first serve, Chief." he teased. "Remember what you used to tell us when we missed out on a big surgery? Sometimes you've gotta be a shark!"

The joke was terrible, and he knew it; but the unamused eyebrow that Bailey quirked at him didn't matter, because Meredith laughed.

After so long spent mourning its absence, the bemused little smile that Alex saw brighten her still tear-streaked face seemed warmer to him than the rays of afternoon sunlight streaming through the window of her room. And judging by the softness that replaced the last traces of jesting irritation in Bailey's eyes, she was as relieved to see it again as he was.

It had been frightening, Alex thought, how quickly Meredith had descended into melancholy again; especially because he and Bailey were the only people who understood just how low she could spiral.

So as the welcome sound of Mer's joy washed over them both, he exchanged a silent glance of unspeakable relief with his mentor and friend that- at the least for the moment- they could relax the wary vigil they had been discreetly keeping for the past few days. And when her raspy voice interrupted his thoughts with an eager question, he turned to smile at her attentively, welcoming the distraction of a less somber topic.

"Can you take it out now?" Meredith asked impatiently, fixing Bailey with a pleading stare as the slender fingers of her uninjured hand toyed distractedly with the flexible plastic tubing of her PICC line. She was so ready to be finished with with IVs that if Bailey said yes, she thought she might just rip the needle out of her arm herself.

But Meredith didn't receive the permission she had been hoping for.

Instead, as if she had guessed her friend's rash intentions, Bailey leaned down to gently still her restless fingers with her own. Then she explained kindly,

"We'll start the process tomorrow, Meredith. For now, I'll adjust the speed of your drip to infuse more slowly overnight. And in the morning, we'll shut it off for a few hours to give you the chance to try taking in some of your calories orally again."

She paused then, to study Meredith's crestfallen expression before continuing encouragingly,

"I'm sorry. I know you're disappointed. But remember, Meredith, this is always a bit of a process. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't just take you off the drip cold turkey; your body has gotten used to continuous insulin and glucose, and if we cut it off too quickly, we would risk your blood sugars plummeting dangerously low."

Meredith nodded in resignation as she felt Alex shift beside her, making sure she could see his lips before he chimed in to explain the plan that she was sure he had probably helped create.

"So we'll start with clear liquids until your stomach gets used to food again." He began. "Then once you've worked your way up to taking about 70 percent of daily calories orally, we can shut of the TPN altogether."

"Just be patient, Mer, ok?" He asked, offering her a gentle smile. "I promise we'll get you there as soon as we can."

Meredith was still frustrated that she couldn't act on her fantasy of ripping the tube out of her arm right then and there, but rationally she knew that these people who loved her were right.

So after a minute, she forced her gaze away from the needle in her arm to smile genuinely back up at Alex, gratified to watch the way his eyes lit up when she did.

And as he pressed a coffee-scented kiss to her forehead, she wondered mischievously what it would take to convince him that the latte she had been craving could be an acceptable start to her liquid diet.


	22. Chapter 22

The next morning, Meredith woke up jittery with nervous excitement. Because in just few short hours, she would finally take the next step down the road that led to one day waking up in her own comfortable bed again instead of this lumpy hospital mattress. 

She had spent the night dreaming of all the food she had been missing- of pizza and coffee and waffles with whipped cream and hamburgers and French-fries and even salad. Her favorite foods usually skewed closer to the typical fare of a 15 year old boy than the sensible diet of a nearly 40 year old woman; but apparently, after so long subsisting on IV nutrition, her body was desperate enough for any solid food to make even the vegetables she typically had to force herself to eat sound tantalizing. 

Her stomach growled hungrily at the thought of food, and Meredith sighed impatiently. She wondered how much longer she would have to wait before Bailey came in to start the process of tapering her drip. Her iphone was sitting on the little table near her bed, so after a moment she reached carefully over a still sleeping Alex and picked it up from its charging pad to check the time. 

Time behaved strangely in the hospital; every identical day seeming to blur into the next in one interminable stream of endless monotony. So Meredith didn’t even realize what day of the week it was until she glanced at the date on her lock screen. Then a sudden rush of rosy memories took her breath away as a sharp pang of longing shot through her heart. Because it was Sunday.

Waffle Sunday, she thought wistfully, realizing with a pang of regret that she had forgotten all about the tradition that Alex had started a only few years ago. But now she suddenly wondered how many other Sunday family breakfasts the attack had stolen from her without her notice. 

The thought of everything she had missed was sobering, but instead of giving into the pull of self-pity and anger that she knew would only be destructive, Meredith closed her eyes to block out the hospital room around her and the reminder of what she had gone through. She refused to go back to the dark place in her mind, she thought determinedly, she refused to let this day bring her anything but happiness.  
So, taking a deep breath, she let her mind drift back to fond memories of the night this tradition had been born. 

When Alex had first come up with the idea, she remembered with a smile, it had taken her by surprise with its abruptness. They had been laying in her bed in comfortable silence at the end of a particularly difficult week, and she had been glad just to go over her notes and enjoy his presence. But just when she had been starting to think that he was asleep, Alex had suddenly rolled over to rest his head against her shoulder and announced cryptically, 

“Mer, I want Waffle Sundays.” 

“Am I supposed to know what that means…?” She had laughed in confusion, glancing up from the book she had been reading to raise her eyebrows at her friend. She sure hoped he meant IHOP waffles, she had thought as she studied his face in amusement, because she wasn’t about to attempt that level of kitchen wizardry on her one day off. 

But the emotion in his voice when he answered had taken her breath away. She could still hear the shy vulnerability of his words in her mind now, and she remembered how immediately it had replaced her amusement with captivation then when he had explained softly, 

“Every Sunday, I want to do waffles like a family. All of us, Mer- you, me, the kids, Pierce… Everybody altogether.” 

Alex had been staring up at the ceiling until then, as if it was easier to be this honest without the pressure of maintaining eye contact. But once he said the word ‘Family’ he had suddenly turned to look at her, and the naked yearning she had seen shining in his chocolate eyes had filled her stomach with a n excited fluttering that she hadn’t understood. 

She had somehow managed to play it cool then; despite her pounding heart and the illicit emotions that had risen in her chest, she had made herself reach calmly across the blankets to squeeze his hand and replied with the smile that she couldn’t contain, 

“Ok.” 

And just like that, a spontaneous late-night idea had become a cherished family tradition that she hoped they would observe for the rest of their lives.

Meredith felt a smile playing around the corners of her lips again as she remembered how amazing Alex’s fluffy waffles piled high with ripe strawberries and sweet whipped cream tasted with coffee, and she almost imagine that she could hear again the echoes of her kids’ delighted laughter when he invariably squirted the whipped topping directly into their open mouths from the can. 

She had always treasured those days, but now that she knew the love she had thought she’d seen shining in Alex’s eyes when he’d grinned at her from across the room all those weeks hadn’t been imagined, the memories had become even more precious to her. 

This is what she was fighting for, Meredith realized, in a moment of sudden clarity; these little moments that gave life its meaning. And as she snuggled a little closer to Alex’s warm body, she once again thanked a God that she didn’t believe in for not letting the morphine succeed. 

She still wished that she could blink and bypass all the struggle. 

She would still give anything to be starting this day with waffles and coffee and the sticky syrup kisses of her children instead of clear liquids and empty arms. 

But she knew that if she could just make it through the rest of this process, then her reward would be a future filled with Waffle Sundays. And this time, Alex wouldn’t have to go home afterward, because he would be home already. 

The vision gave her strength, and as she opened her eyes again she exhaled slowly and held onto that dream, resolved to do her very best to swallow whatever her friends brought her this morning- no matter how gross she was beginning to worry it might be. 

The wires immobilizing her jaw were so similar to the braces she’d had as a teenager, even down to the bleeding sores they ripped in the soft flesh of her inner cheeks at night, that they sometimes gave her a feeling of déjà vu. And as she ran her tongue gingerly across them now, deep in thought, Meredith allowed herself to consider for the first time exactly what kind of diet she would have to endure for the weeks that were left until the wires came off. 

She had forgotten until now, but suddenly she remembered again with a shiver of disgust the thick, pink hamburger and fry slurry that some of her friends in high school used to blend their food into after they'd had their braces tightened and it hurt too much to chew. 

She had jokingly gagged at their creations then, and just starved until her own mouth stopped hurting. But when she’d had her wisdom teeth removed during the craziness of her surgical internship 10 years later, she had gotten desperate enough for caloric energy to ignore her revulsion and force down a lasagna smoothie of her own.

Still, however necessary the liquid diets that she and her friends had come up with so many years ago had been, they were far from ideal. So as Meredith swallowed hard and wiggled in the bed, trying to shake off the wave of residual nausea rising in her throat, she hoped wryly that whatever Bailey had in mind for her now would at least a little less disgusting. 

She was so caught up in her thoughts, that for a moment, she forgot to be careful. And the sudden movement she made shook the bed just enough to make Alex stir in his sleep, groaning grumpily beside her at the intrusion to his dreams. 

She wanted to feel bad for waking him, but the heat of his morning breath on her neck when he pressed his cheek against her shoulder was so grounding and calming that she sighed contentedly. The quiet intimacy of the position felt like a little island of peace in the midst of her churning sea of doubts about the day ahead. It was exactly the therapy that she hadn’t realized she had needed.

"Mmmmph. Good morning." Alex mumbled into her ear, his voice sounding low and husky from sleep. And when, eyes still closed against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, he blindly brushed a quick kiss of greeting against her cheek, it felt somehow as easy and natural as if he’d been kissing her for much longer than just a couple of weeks.

The gentle caress felt like a habit that Meredith never wanted to break, sending little shivers of desire down her spine with its delicious informality. Even as she hummed a relaxed “Mm hmm” in reply, she couldn’t help privately dreaming of a future where she had this privilege of waking up to his lips and his arms every morning until she was old and gray. 

They laid there that way for a few moments, until Alex shifted to drape his arm lower across her hips; then the pressing need of her full bladder brought her reluctantly back to the demands of the present. As she squirmed uncomfortably against the urge to pee, she felt rather than heard Alex’s soft chuckle of amusement, and he quickly removed his arm. 

“Sorry,” He apologized sleepily, even in his grogginess correctly interpreting the meaning of her impatient movements. “You need to pee?” he mumbled bluntly into her hair, and Meredith nodded in relief. 

Yes, please.

They had gotten good at this routine over the past few weeks, she thought a few moments later, when her bladder no longer felt like exploding and Alex had one strong arm wrapped firmly around her narrow waist to help her balance as she washed her hands. 

After that first momentous trip, the awkwardness she had initially felt at letting the man that she loved witness such a vulnerable function of life had slowly faded. Gradually, her short journey to the bathroom in Alex’s arms each morning had started to become routine.

That transition had undoubtedly been helped along by how completely nonchalant and unfazed he seemed by the whole situation, Meredith thought gratefully as she scrubbed. In fact, sometimes he came in to lean casually against the sink and brush his teeth or shave while she peed, and it almost felt like- aside from the hospital gown she was wearing- the whole situation wasn’t so different from the times they had shared a bathroom in the past. 

With a smile, Meredith allowed the hot water to run soothingly over her hands long after the suds had been washed down the drain, distracted by their entwined reflection in the mirror. For the first time, she noticed how perfectly her head was cradled by the little hollow between Alex’s shoulder and neck, and how warm and safe his arms felt wrapped around her like this. 

She wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected their relationship to look like after she had told her best friend that she loved him too; maybe a period of adjustment as they settled into what their new significance to each other’s lives might look like in practicality? 

But the awkward ambiguity that she had anticipated had never come.

Instead- she mused thoughtfully, ducking her head shyly when Alex caught her staring and smirked at her in the mirror- the only change had been a subtle deepening to the same current of emotion that had always run between them. 

It was almost as if they just had been waiting all these years for an invitation to step across that final line of intimacy. And when their kiss that amazing night had finally given the permission they had been longing for, all that time spent dreaming had made the transition from friendship to love come as naturally as breathing. 

"Like what you see?" She heard Alex tease her gently for her unabashed staring, pulling her back to the present by slightly tightening his grip on her hips. And despite her embarrassment, Meredith couldn’t help laughing at the humorous contrast that the exaggeratedly sexy expression he put on made with his crazy morning hair. 

Her cheeks flushed a soft pink at the open admiration she saw in his eyes as she quickly turned off the water and dried her hands on a scratchy paper towel. Then before she could let self-consciousness change her mind, she acted on her sudden urge to turn carefully around within the circle of his arms and bury her face against his shirtless chest in a spontaneous hug.   
Pouring all of the warm gratitude that her thoughtful musings on their friendship had left her feeling into her words, she took a deep breath and murmured earnestly into his bare skin,

"I love you, Alex Karev." 

He stiffened against her in surprise for a moment, taken aback by the unexpected emotion in her voice. But after a moment, he pulled her impossibly closer, and she felt one careful hand reach up to gently stroke her tangled hair.

“So I guess we’re just completely disregarding the voice rest, huh Mer?” 

He joked lightly, the soft laughter that followed his words reverberating through his chest beneath her ear so contagiously that when she glanced up at him with a guilty shrug and met his eyes, she couldn’t help joining in too. 

As he scooped her up and carried her back to the bed as effortlessly as if she weighed nothing at all, Meredith mused that some girls might have been bothered that he hadn’t said “I love you” in return. But, she thought with a smile, letting her head rest against his shoulder, it didn’t matter to her.

She knew Alex; she knew that like her, he had always communicated more clearly with his actions than he ever had with words. Life had taught them to cautious about giving away their love, and even time and maturity would never fully change that. 

But she had seen the adoration shining in his eyes in the bathroom mirror when he had caught her staring. She had heard it for years, in the reverence that still softened his voice every time he said her name. And she could feel it now, in how carefully he was pulling the covers up around her waist again. 

And all of that was more than answer enough to fill her chest with the warm knowledge that he loved her too. 

“All right, my turn.” Alex sighed then, his words pulling her from her romantic thoughts just in time to watch him straighten back up and stretch his sore back with a grimace that he failed to totally hide. The lumpy hospital mattress must be taking a toll on him too, Meredith thought dryly. 

“But I need a shower too,” He continued. “So I’m going to head for the locker room. You need anything before I go?” 

She smiled at his thoughtfulness, but only shook her head quickly in reply; ignoring the twinge of disappointment that she felt when he tugged yesterday’s wrinkled shirt back over his head, covering up the hypnotizing planes of his bare chest with material. 

“Ok then.” He said as he reached out to squeeze her hand before crossing to the door, turning back to smile over his shoulder in a way that made her think maybe he had noticed her frustration and found it gratifying.  
“I’ll be right back. Today’s a big day.”

Alex was careful to keep the encouraging smile pasted on his face until the door of Meredith’s room closed behind him, but then he exhaled deeply and let the nervous energy that had been flooding his body even without caffeine increase his pace to a restrained jog.

He had meant what he’d said to Mer, today really was a big day in the timeline of her recovery. And even though he knew he still had plenty of time before rounds, he hurried, because he wanted to make sure that he was there for the woman he loved in whatever capacity she needed when Bailey did arrive to finally shut off the TPN drip. 

So Alex hurried through what had become his routine for these ‘hospital mornings’- an overpriced coffee from the cart in the courtyard, a plain bagel from the Attending’s lounge, and a lukewarm shower in the empty locker room. 

He was so caught up in his concerns for the day, that it wasn’t until he stepped out of the tiny shower and dried his dripping body with one of the rough white towels folded neatly in the cupboard that he realized he had forgotten to bring clean clothes with him from the house last night. 

He still hadn’t been back to the loft, because Jo wasn’t answering any of his calls. And after how he had hurt her, he figured that respecting her privacy by not showing up unannounced was the very least he could do. 

But that meant that he had just been living in whatever old pieces of his clothing he had found in the drawer in Mer’s room that over the years had been tacitly designated as his- mostly comfortable old t-shirts and sweatpants that he had accidentally left behind at one point or another- or baggy hospital sweats from his locker. 

That had been fine at first, but it had been several weeks and by now, even all of his baggy Grey Sloan tracksuits were languishing in the rapidly growing laundry pile back at the house, waiting for someone to find the non-existent free time it would take to to wash them. So that left only yesterday’s wrinkled outfit or an ill- fitting pair of loaner scrubs as his clothing options for the day.

With a groan of frustration, Alex grabbed his wrinkled shirt from off the damp, tile floor and quickly pressed it to his nose for a freshness check. He dropped it again just as quickly though, because the fabric smelled like an unpleasant mixture of his stale sweat, and Ellis’s spilled formula and the fish sticks that he had cooked for the kids’ dinner last night.

“Crap.” He mumbled to himself, bundling the dirty clothes into a loose pile in his arms. “Scrubs it is.” 

He started slowly across the room to the cupboard where the spare scrubs were kept but stopped halfway there to shove his old clothing into his locker first. He would take it home with him when he picked up the kids from school he thought in resignation, and then there was a long afternoon of laundry in his future. 

As he unlocked his locker, he fully expected it to be empty except for his white coat, like it had been after the Appy he had performed the day before. But much to his surprise, when the metal door creaked open on noisy hinges, there was a familiar bag perched on the shelf inside. 

He recognized it immediately, because he had seen it hanging in the entryway of the loft almost every night for years. This was Jo’s black leather backpack, he thought numbly, the same one from whose confusing depths he had fished snacks and wallets and keys during so many day trips before. The same one that she had brought to him that very first day after Mer’s attack in the on-call room, thoughtfully filled with protein bars and water bottles and clothes that smelled like her. 

Alex stared at the nostalgic bag for a few frozen seconds, unsure of why it was there. But after a while, the blast of the AC against his bare made him shiver, so he reached out a tentative hand and opened it up. And when he cautiously reached a hand inside, he found some of the things that he had been wanting to retrieve from the loft- his toothbrush, his razor, his laptop. Also clothes, soft and clean and still somehow smelling faintly of Jo’s flowery perfume. 

Numbly, he slipped his favorite Henley on over his still wet hair and pulled on the jeans that were folded up with it, struggling to understand why Jo would do something this thoughtful after everything he had put her through, even unintentionally.

In Alex’s mind, even though he had never meant to hurt her, Jo had every right to hate him for the rest of her days; and maybe even to throw his crap out of the windows and burn it, or whatever else girls did when the guy they loved had acted like an oblivious jerk. 

But instead of taking the opportunity to set his stuff on fire, Jo had chosen to anticipate what he would need and then bring those exact things to his locker. Instead of vengeance she had chosen kindness, and Alex felt a heavy weight lift off of his shoulders at the implications of the gesture. 

He suddenly understood that the bag was more than just a gift; it was a sign that Jo forgave him. And tears of gratitude and relief sprang to his eyes unbidden because he hadn’t realized until now how much a part of his heart had needed her blessing before it could move on. 

With a deep sigh, he set the bag gently back on the shelf and closed the locker again, blocking it from view. But before he left the room to go back up to Mer and the new life he had chosen to start with her, Alex paused to scribble a note in careful handwriting on the back of a paper towel he found in the bathroom. 

Shakily, he wrote:

Dear Jo, I don’t know what else I can say to you except for I’m sorry. It will never be enough to make up for what I did to you, but it’s all I have. So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. And thank you. Thank you for the bag, for the past few years, for everything. For all of it. You deserve this whole damn world, Jo; and I hope you get it. Love, Alex 

He held the paper in his hand for a long moment before he slid it into the locker that he knew was Jo’s, staring at the end of a chapter of his life that he knew he would never forget. But then, his heart full, he turned to push his way back through the heavy swinging doors of the locker room again, leaving the past behind him and walking back toward his future. 

It was Waffle Sunday, and Meredith was waiting for him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me awhile to post! It's long though, so hopefully that makes up for the wait. I promise that updates are still coming regularly! They just might be a bit more spread out now that I'm back to being slammed with schoolwork. Anyway, thanks for reading! :)

Bailey must have been as excited as he was, Alex thought in amusement as he rounded the corner to Meredith's room again; because even though it was only 8 in the morning by the time he walked back through the door, the chief was already there, fiddling with the IV drip that dispensed Mer's TPN.

"Morning, Bailey." He greeted his boss casually as he crossed the floor to stand on the opposite side of the bed. "Starting early today."

"Only the best for our VIP patient, Karev." Bailey replied lightly, her voice sounding as carefree as Alex hoped his had. But even though this was a fairly routine procedure and he had pushed for it for weeks, nothing was ever entirely without risk.

And as Bailey's eyes met his for a split second and the two of them exchanged a worried glance, he realized that her calm tone of voice was just a choice- an effort to disguise the same anxiety churning in his stomach. The only difference was that years as chief had made Miranda Bailey much more convincing than he was, Alex thought envyingly.

When Bailey turned to Meredith and asked kindly, "Ok. Are you ready, honey?" her voice didn't waver at all. But he had to take a deep breath before he could convincingly squeeze the hand that Meredith slipped suddenly into his own.

Meredith hesitated for a moment before answering, but when she finally nodded up at Bailey in response and he saw a spark of that same fiery determination that he had always admired flash in her eyes, Alex smiled despite his nerves. Because he knew what that fire meant: Mer was ready to fight.

"Great." Bailey said brightly. "Then I'm going to go ahead and shut off your TPN drip," She explained, stretching up on her tiptoes to reach the half empty bag dangling from Meredith's IV stand. "But since we'll still be infusing for the next couple of nights, I'm going to leave this heparin lock in, ok?"

She waited for Meredith to nod once again in confirmation, then deftly twisted the little plastic flow regulator at the bottom of the bag to the 'off' position.

And although she found the 30 second process somewhat underwhelming after all the preparation it had taken to get there, Meredith politely matched the smile on Bailey's face when she spun back around to face her again.

She might have been the patient at the moment, but she was also an award-winning surgeon and none of the information that Miranda began explaining to her next was anything that she didn't already know. Still, she had noticed the nervous glances that her friends had thought they were hiding and she could feel their nervous energy, so she listened anyway, nodding at all the appropriate times.

"So we're going to start with light liquids today, Meredith." Miranda said. "Bone broth, and apple juice and Pedialyte- things like that. And if your stomach handles that with no problem, then we can move on to something a little more interesting- like protein shakes, and milkshakes and smoothies. And after that, you can eat anything we can blend into a liquid."

She smiled positively, but Meredith winced as she remembered again the lasagna smoothie that still haunted her. As boring as she was certain it would eventually get, she would be sticking to drinks that were meant to be liquid in the first place, she thought determinedly as Bailey's words continued to wash over her. By the time she turned her attention back to the conversation, The Chief's tone had lost its levity.

"You've lost a lot of weight already from the TPN," She was saying seriously. "So making sure that you don't drop any lower will be a main priority."

Alex jumped in then, squeezing the hand that he still held tightly in his own as he agreed with his boss.

"Yeah. Mer, listen." He said earnestly. "Someone will bring you food every three hours during the day, and it's really important that you do your best to get it all down, ok? Even if it takes a while for your appetite to come back. It's really easy to get dehydrated or hypoglycemic in these first few hours while your body is regulating."

He had slowly sunk down onto the mattress beside her while he was talking, and now he was close enough for Meredith to easily read the cloud of concern that darkened his amber eyes to a rich chocolate brown as he lowered his voice to say encouragingly, for only her to hear,

"This is the next step toward getting you home to the kids, Mer."

And as she smiled gently up at him at the welcomed thought, trying to communicate through only their linked hands that she understood what was at stake, she heard the rumble of the meal service carts begin as if on cue.

"Right on time," Alex joked, smiling crookedly at her before dropping her hand and standing to look toward the sound. Meredith listened as the rumbling grew closer and closer, until it stopped outside her door. Then a few seconds later, Bailey crossed the room to accept what she assumed must be her breakfast from a smiling man whom she didn't recognize. And once The Chief took the lid off of the Styrofoam container, the delicious smell that filled the room told Meredith that she had guessed correctly.

"All right." said Bailey briskly. "This is bone broth that's been blended with some collagen for extra protein. I know it's not the most exciting first meal, but it is nutritious, and it will be easiest on your stomach." Then she held out two plastic wrapped objects for Meredith to choose from. "I have both a straw and a curved tip syringe here," She explained patiently. "You can use whichever one you feel will be the most comfortable."

Meredith nodded in acknowledgment as she studied her choices, pointing to the straw after a brief moment of indecision. And when Bailey placed the fragrant container of soup on the tray that swung out over her bed, she obediently parted her lips to take a tentative sip.

She had spent weeks longing for the moment when she would finally get to try real food again. And even though it wasn't the deep dish pizza or Ben and Jerry's ice cream or Dutch Bros coffee she had been craving, after so long without solid food, she was surprised to find that the bone broth tasted unexpectedly delicious.

A much less pleasant surprise, however, was how difficult it was to figure out how to pull the warm liquid back behind her teeth so she could swallow it. Although she tried her best, her first few sips dribbled slowly back out of her mouth, and Meredith felt her cheeks flush hot and red in embarrassment.

This was a complication that she hadn't even thought to consider before, and even though she told herself not to be dramatic, she suddenly had to fight the urge to pull the white hospital sheets up over her head and disappear.

She could feel the heat of Alex's gaze on her, but she studiously avoided meeting his eyes. She didn't want to see the sympathy that she knew she would find there. Instead she turned her wide eyes on Bailey, who kindly ignored the tears that were slowly gathering there.

"That's ok." She said lightly, as nonchalantly as if watching a grown woman dribble soup all over herself was genuinely no big deal. "Avery must have you wired together really tightly. Just- try sucking the soup through the gaps in your teeth instead."

Meredith did try, but it seemed to work only slightly better. And after several only partially successful sips, she realized that she would need to resign herself to the reality that- at least until she got the hang of swallowing using only her lips and her tongue- eating was going to be unavoidably messy.

Still, her mentor seemed satisfied with her progress. After a few moments of watching her struggle, she patted Meredith's knee comfortingly and reluctantly stood to go.

"Good girl," She said softly. "I have a meeting this morning that I can't miss, but I'll be back to check on you before evening rounds. You'll do just fine." She promised with a confident nod. And then before Meredith could find the words to beg her not to leave, Bailey left her alone in the room with Alex and her soup.

An unnatural silence settled between them for a few painful minutes, the only sound in the room Meredith's inelegant slurping. She could tell that Alex sensed her embarrassment and was trying to be sensitive to her feelings, but she still couldn't bring herself to chance a look his way. Until with a heavy sigh, he leaned forward and murmured softly,

"Mer, come on. I've seen you covered in strangers' blood and vomit and urine, remember? After all that, you really think a little soup is going to be what scares me away?"

Alex's reassuring words didn't magically take away her embarrassment, but they did lessen it a little. After a few seconds, Meredith couldn't help smiling at the memories of the cases he had mentioned as she shyly lifted her eyes to meet his gentle gaze.

Once she did, Alex smiled too, his eyes dancing with a mixture of seriousness and amusement.

"I love you, Meredith." He said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

And as little shivers ran up and down her spine at the conviction in his voice, she realized that she believed him.

They stayed wrapped up in that emotional moment for a while, the soup forgotten on the tray between them. Until with a shy smile, Alex sat up and asked briskly,

"Well, do you want to try the syringe now?"

But Meredith still shook her head no. She didn't think she would be able to manipulate a syringe with only one working hand, and even after his sweet words, she didn't want Alex to have to squeeze every swallow into the back of her mouth.

So as he watched sympathetically, she persevered with the straw instead, until her stomach felt uncomfortably full and the Styrofoam cup was close to half- empty. Then with a sigh, she leaned back against her pillows again.

She felt uncomfortably stuffed, she thought with a grimace. When she shifted slightly in the bed, her stomach sloshed like it had as a kid, when she gulped too much water from the drinking fountain on a hot day. And even though she knew she should, there was no way she could possibly finish the rest of her soup.

"Done? Alex chuckled at her expression, already moving the tray away from her and putting the lid back on the cup even before she hummed in confirmation.

She actually felt a little nauseous, Meredith realized as he carefully carried the leftover soup to the trashcan; her stomach was churning, stubbornly rebelling against the task she had asked of it. And although she tried to stifle it, a little moan escaped her lips as she suppressed a sudden urge to gag.

Alex heard the strangled noise from across the room, and Meredith felt bad for the concern that she saw wrinkle his brow as he turned quickly back toward her to ask, "You ok?"

She hesitated before answering- squeezing her eyes shut as if that could help her hold back the waves of sickness that kept crashing over her. She definitely wasn't ok, she thought as the soup she had just eaten began creeping back up her throat for an encore appearance. But before she could stop herself, she felt her head nodding yes automatically.

She was so used to always being 'fine' that she had forgotten for a moment who she was talking to. This was Alex- the one person she had never had to put on an act for. The one person who could always see right through her if she tried.

And this time was no different.

Even though he began rubbing comforting circles between her shoulder blades, Alex narrowed his eyes and frowned at her skeptically.

"Mer, its ok if you're not ok." He said neutrally. "This is the first real food that you've had in months. It makes sense for your stomach to freak out."

He was right of course, but Meredith didn't know what to say. She was so desperate for this day to be a success, so desperate to finally hold her kids and sleep in her own bed again. And she was terrified to admit anything that might jeopardize those dreams. So for a long moment she just didn't respond.

She could feel Alex's pointed stare on her, combining with the increasing urge to vomit everything she had so laboriously forced down her esophagus to slowly erode her stubbornness. And by the time he asked again, his voice full of knowing concern, "Is your stomach freaking out?"

She had decided to give up on trying to be strong and admit to what was already obvious.

"It's freaking out." She whimpered pathetically.

"I knew it." Alex chuckled, and when Meredith opened her eyes to chance a glance at his face, she saw both exasperation with her stubbornness and relief that she had finally chosen honesty struggling there. But even though he shook his head scoldingly at her, there was fond amusement in his eyes that made her smile sheepishly through her misery.

The fact that Alex always seemed to find her obstinate independence endearing was yet another sign from the universe that they belonged together, she thought before the nausea drew another groan from her throat. Because one thing she had learned over the last 40 years was that this particular character trait of hers wasn't fading with age.

"I knew it." Alex repeated, more softly this time, releasing her hand after one final squeeze and unfolding his long limbs from the tiny plastic chair.

"I'll go get you some Zofran." He said, not giving her the chance to refuse.

"I'll be right back."

Despite her pride, when he turned to rush out of the room, Meredith let him. Because the angrier her stomach became, the more vividly her mind kept flashing back to what a deeply unpleasant experience throwing up without being able to open her mouth had been. The feeling of burning vomit running out of her nose was not one that she ever wanted to relive.

So she waited patiently until Alex to returned with a syringe filled with pink Ondansetron brandished triumphantly over his head.

"Got it." He panted.

And when she wrinkled her nose in distaste at the realization that he wanted her to swallow the sugary pink syrup instead of having it administered intravenously, he added coaxingly, "Come on, this will help, Mer, ok?"

"Here." He directed, pressing the syringe into her unwilling hand. "Wiggle the tip of it back into the gap space behind your molars and then squeeze slowly. That way, all you have to do is swallow."

He was right, and Meredith knew from the creeping feeling in her throat that she was likely only minutes away from being overpowered by her nausea. So with a grimace, she obeyed, even though she fully expected the medicine to drip all over her face like the soup had earlier. But Alex reached out to guide her unsteady hand, and with his help depressing the plunger, the only dripping that the pink fluid did was down the back of her throat.

Thankfully, once the medicine was in her system, relief came quickly. By the time Meredith saw Stephanie- who seemed to be assigned to her case for the day- poke her head into the room and hold out her next liquid offering, her stomach had settled enough that thought of starting the whole tedious process of eating over again didn't make her violently ill.

After 'lunch' she passed her first blood glucose check by a narrow margin and managed to completely finish the Pedialyte she was given. And, her nausea successfully managed by Alex's careful monitoring of her Zofran dosage, she did fine for the rest of day too. It wasn't until he kissed her cheek and left to go do bedtime routine with her kids, that her stomach churned again, but this time it was from anxiety and not soup.

Meredith laid awake in the darkness for a long time, imagining she could feel the TPN that was dripping TPN dripping slowly into her veins again, unable to sleep. Even though Alex had been as understanding and supportive as any woman could have asked for, she still couldn't dismiss the nagging fear that maybe he hadn't really known what he was getting into when he had promised to be by her side through all of this.

He was a freaking doctor, and she the more rational part of knew that her fears were probably completely irrational, but still, her traitorous mind whispered the question she couldn't answer. What man would willingly tie his life to a woman who couldn't walk alone, couldn't talk for longer than a few seconds, and now apparently couldn't even eat without dribbling various fluids all over herself in a decidedly unsexy manner?

Whether she was attractive to anyone but herself had never been much of a consideration at all since Derek had died, Meredith mused dismally. But now that she knew Alex returned the feelings she had been nursing for years, it was different. She didn't need to be Giselle in a hospital gown , but she did want to know that Alex felt the same butterflies when he looked at her that she felt fluttering in her stomach whenever he walked into her room.

For one guilty moment, she thought about ungratefully denying how helpful he had been and asking him to leave whenever it was time for her to drink her meals. But she quickly dismissed the selfish idea, because in the privacy of the darkness, Meredith was brave enough to admit to herself that there would be darker ramifications to that plan than merely indulging her vanity.

She hadn't mentioned it to Alex, but she had noticed how scarcely he left her side now, in the aftermath of those painful weeks without each other. And the residual guilt that slowly crept in to writhe uncomfortably in her chest was because although she wished she didn't, she knew exactly why he was so reluctant to let her out of his sight. She also knew that it was all her fault.

She had tried not to let herself think of how it must have felt for Alex to walk into her room after her morphine overdose and find her coding, but there were times when facing the aftermath of her choices was unavoidable. And then the quick flashes of unmistakable fear that she sometimes saw in Alex's eyes when he had to leave the room- even just to go pick up the kids from school or to take a shower in the locker room- almost hurt worse than all of her physical injuries combined.

No, Meredith decided firmly; she couldn't make Alex suffer the consequences of the trauma she had caused just to preserve her pride. She had no doubt that he would step out without argument if she asked for privacy, but compared with what she knew it would cost him to grant her request, pride suddenly seemed the more reasonable price to pay.

The sun was beginning to rise before her guilty conscience finally let her fall asleep, so when Maggie's cheerful voice roused her only a few hours later, she was far from ready to wake up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Maggie greeted brightly, waiting patiently for Meredith to open her gritty eyes and squint blearily up her through the blinding overhead lights.

"Sorry to wake you, but I brought your breakfast," She continued apologetically. Meredith's only response was a grouchy groan however, so after a few moments, the younger woman set the tray she had been carrying on the nightstand and sank carefully down onto the mattress beside her sister.

"Not feeling so great today?" She asked carefully.

Maggie's big brown eyes searched her face sympathetically, and even thiugh they were inches apart, Meredith suddenly missed her sister intensely. She didn't want to be doctor and patient anymore, she thought, blinking back hot tears. She wanted the soup that she could already smell to be ice cream instead. She wanted this mattress to be her own comfortable bed, and she wanted to have a light, giggly conversation about surgeries and the kids and love lives instead of this heavy one about her injuries.

For a moment, she almost confessed to Maggie the mental struggle that had kept her up well into the morning- but imagining the warmth and fondness in her sister's eyes fading to icy betrayal when she learned that the morphine overdose hadn't been an accident held her back.

So Meredith forced herself to swallow her emotions instead. And rather than bursting into tears, she somehow managed to shrug and roll her eyes in a flippant 'What do you think' gesture that made Maggie reach out to pull her into a fierce hug.

"I know. I'm sorry," She laughed into Meredith's neck. "I heard about the nausea yesterday. But that's normal, Mer." She said encouragingly as she sat up again. "And if your stomach feels better today, then I bet tomorrow we can switch your meals out to something more fun- how does a fruit smoothie or some pudding or Jello sound?"

Messy and sticky, Meredith thought dismally. But outwardly she nodded and offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Maggie was always so optimistic, she thought fondly, and she didn't want to infect her sister's enthusiasm with her contagious misery.

She wasn't at all confident that her efforts were convincing, but either she succeeded, or Maggie chose to overlook her angst. Because with a smile of her own, the other woman stood to shut off the TPN drip that had been infusing at 50 percent during the night.

And when she turned around again to ask brightly, "Ok. Ready to get started with the broth now?" Meredith made herself nod again.

As she reluctantly opened her mouth to accept the straw that Maggie's careful fingers held up to her lips, the one bright spot in her day was the grateful realization that although she missed him, at least Alex wasn't there to watch her bathe in her breakfast.

Maggie got to paged to the OR after they had managed only a few difficult sips, and she had to rush apologetically out of the room, leaving Meredith to finish in the privacy she had been wishing for. But without the help of the muscles usually required for the task, it was taking her so long to drink her soup that the liquid was quickly growing unappetizingly cold and congealed.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Meredith eyed the container, trying to estimate how many calories she had succeeded in swallowing. Nearly half, she thought wearily, that should be good enough. And pushing the warning thoughts of the potential dangers of not finishing out of her mind, she left the uneaten food on her bedside table with a sigh of relief.

3 hours later, an orderly that she didn't recognize brought her lunch, which was nearly the same thing as her breakfast except with some added pureed rice. But the texture felt weird slipping down her sore throat, and once again ignoring her medical knowledge, she quickly decided not to finish that either.

The dull headache she'd noticed when she had first woken up was starting grow more intense, probably from the lack of sleep last night, she thought with a wince. And since she was beginning to feel a little bit shaky and lightheaded as well, Meredith leaned back against her pillows and let her puffy eyes drift closed.

She had only meant to ease her pounding head, but she must have ended up accidentally falling asleep. Because the next thing she knew, Alex was leaning over her. She could smell his spicy cologne even before she opened her eyes, and his warm breath oh her face combined with the gentle pressure of his lips on hers made her heart beat a little faster, pulling her immediately out of any remaining haziness.

Alex jumped a little when she opened her eyes and smiled lazily up at him.

"Sorry," He whispered guiltily, "I didn't mean to wake you."

But Meredith just shook her head dismissively in wordless response, she would choose his kisses over sleep any day.

It wasn't until she tried to sit up that she realized the nap hadn't cured her lightheadedness like she had thought it would. The room still spun concerningly around her, but she ignored the tiny whisper in the back of her mind that suggested maybe there was something more serious going on than just exhaustion.

Instead she turned to ask hoarsely, "Where were you?" and did her best to follow Alex with her eyes across the rapidly spinning room as he sank down into what had become 'his' chair.

"Well, Zola's class had a field trip to the Pacific Science Center this morning- you know, the one by the space needle?" He answered, raising his eyebrows at her in joking annoyance. "And someone signed me up to be a chaperone." He finished pointedly.

Whoops, Meredith thought, chuckling in spite of how blurry Alex's dancing eyes suddenly looked. She remembered the day that Zola's teacher had handed her that sign-up sheet and she had written Alex's name down instead; before her life had come screeching to a halt, she'd had a huge surgery scheduled for this morning at the exact same time as her daughter's field trip.

She knew that Alex didn't mean it to be, but the mention of the museum was a bitter reminder of everything that she was still missing out on trapped there in that hospital bed. And Meredith felt a sharp pang of longing to be in the hospital as a surgeon instead of a patient again slice through her heart as sharply as the scalpel she wished she could be holding.

It was a struggle to push the intrusive feelings away and keep her expression neutral, but she knew she had managed when she heard Alex laugh, seemingly mistaking her silence for sheepishness.

"Don't worry about it, Mer." He said in amusement. "You know I love that kind of stuff. Zo and I had a blast."

And then even through her bitterness, Meredith couldn't help but smile a little too at the genuine enjoyment she heard in his voice. It was extra meaningful now to imagine him making memories with her daughter. And it was true, she thought with a little thill of affection; as cool as he tried to seem, Alex had always been a secret nerd.

He was just launching into an adorably detailed explanation of the animatronic dinosaur exhibit they had seen when the door to her room banged suddenly open and they both turned in surprise to see Stephanie come to deliver her next liquid 'snack'. But instead of drinking from the cup she was handed, Meredith groaned wearily, wondering how three hours could have passed already.

As a single mom to three young kids and a sought-after surgeon as well, she just wasn't used to eating this regularly. The level of busyness that her very full life demanded she sustain meant that before the accident, her eating habits had been sporadic at best.

Breakfast had usually been a stray NutriGrain bar that she scarfed down at 7 am on the way to daycare drop off, and dinner was often whatever she could find left over in the fridge after the kids went to bed 12 hrs later. It was a good day if she remembered to grab lunch somewhere in between, Meredith thought grimly.

By now, her mild headache had intensified to a relentless throbbing that was beginning to make her eyes twitch, and even though she had just taken a nap, she still felt so tired… Her thoughts felt strange and scattered and her eyelids were so heavy.

She just wanted to go back to sleep, she thought longingly, not force more fluids past her immobilized teeth. But Alex and Edwards were both watching her expectantly, so after a few moments, she took a reluctant sip.

Alex had been watched Meredith's internal battle carefully, and as she finally raised the cup to her lips, he frowned in concern. Her hand seemed to tremble a little, and although he wanted to be reasonable, he couldn't shake the creeping worry he felt sneaking into the pit of his stomach.

Mer had seemed pale from the second he had walked through her door, he thought worriedly. Although he hadn't thought anything of it at first, now that she had been weaned off all of her pain medications, it was unusual to find her sleeping in the middle of the day.

And the quick glance that he cast at her monitors for reassurance brought him none. Even though every screen showed normal readings, he still couldn't shake a vaguely irrational sense of uneasiness that insisted something was not right.

Meredith was drinking some kind of clear sports drink, Alex realized when he turned back toward her again, probably Pedialyte. A little bit of it dribbled out of the corners of her mouth with each sip, dripping down off her chin and leaving sweet smelling wet spots on her blankets, but he ignored the urge to reach out and tenderly dry her face.

He could tell that despite his honest reassurance yesterday, Mer was still embarrassed about the spilling. If they had been alone, he thought in frustration, he would have reached out to take her hand and told her that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met as many times as it took until she believed that he meant it. Stephanie was in the room too though, so he thought about just reassuring her again that this was normal and that it would get easier in a few more days.

But Meredith was still studiously avoiding his sympathetic gaze, so in the end, Alex wisely decided not to draw any additional attention to her embarrassment at all. Instead, he made excruciating small talk with Edwards for a few moments, until a low moan caught his attention. Then he had just enough time to turn and see the cup slip from Meredith's trembling hand and fall to the floor with a wet 'splat.'

"Hey, what happened?" Alex asked worriedly, carefully avoiding the spreading puddle when he surged forward to bridge the few inches of distance between him and the bed. "Mer," he prodded gently when she didn't immediately answer, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly through the thin fabric of her hospital gown. "You ok?"

In the silence that followed his question, Alex felt the uneasiness that he had tried to stifle become a chill of icy fear that he could no longer ignore.

And even when Meredith finally moved to press her now definitely trembling hand against her sweaty forehead, her answer brought did nothing to ease his worry.

"My head hurts." She moaned miserably.

"Ok," He breathed, in a voice that he hoped sounded much calmer than he felt. "We can fix that."

"How can I help?" A shaky voice behind him asked, and without stopping the gentle patterns his fingers were drawing on Meredith's skin, Alex turned away from her to meet Stephanie's wide-eyed gaze with surprise. In his panic, he had forgotten that the resident was still in the room. But now, he was immensely grateful for the girl's presence.

"She needs a dose of Offirmev." He directed curtly, fear making his words gruffer than he meant them to be. And as if she could sense the warning in his voice, Stephanie didn't try to argue with him about whether he had the necessary hospital privileges to be prescribing medications for his friend. In an admirable testament to her self-preservation skills, she just nodded and obeyed.

As the resident's rapid footsteps faded behind him, Alex turned his full attention back to Meredith.

"Did you hear that?" He asked her gently. "Edwards will be right back with some more of your pain meds."

But when Meredith tried to mumble an answer, he realized in confusion that he couldn't understand the strangely disjointed sounds that slipped from her lips. She sounded drunk, he thought, his breath catching in his throat with fear; her words came out so slurred together and tumbling over each other that whatever she had meant to say was completely unintelligible.

At first, Alex told himself that he must have just misheard her. Forcing himself to take several deep breaths until his voice would obey him again, he cleared his throat and tried to calm her down so they could start again.

"Mer, it's ok." He said firmly, "I'm right here, I'm going to help you. Just take a deep breath and tell me again."

But she didn't calm down. Instead of being comforted by his words and his hands like she usually was, Alex watched Meredith's breath begin to come faster and faster, until he could hear it whistling concerningly in her throat.

She was working herself into a panic attack, he thought, frustrated with himself for not understanding what she was trying to tell him. He could feel the fabric of her gown growing damp with sweat beneath his hands, and there was a thin sheen of it glistening on her smooth forehead too, plastering her hair to her scalp like she had just gotten out of the shower; even though the air conditioning vent was directly above them and his own skin was covered in goosebumps.

"Mer, please," He begged desperately, allowing some of his fear to bleed into his words. "Talk to me."

But when she finally did manage to form words, Alex felt no relief. Instead, Meredith's voice sent his stomach plummeting past his feet and the room spinning around him for a sickening minute. Because the name that she moaned so pleadingly wasn't his.

"Derek," She whimpered, digging the heel of her good hand into her closed eyes so roughly that he winced at how painful it looked. "Derek, it hurts."

Then Alex knew with conviction that his first instinct had been right all along. Regardless of the positive numbers her monitors still reflected, there was something horribly wrong.

Meredith's mental disorientation was both sudden and terrifying, and he knew that he should be expending all of his mental energy toward determining the cause so that he could fix it. But he was only human, and hearing Meredith call him by the name of the only other man she had ever loved so soon after she had professed her love for him hurt more deeply than he had expected it could.

He had always understood that there was a part of Meredith's heart that would belong to Derek forever, and he had made his peace with that. But although he would never forget Izzie or Jo, his own heart had always belonged only to Mer.

So even though he told himself that feeling this devasted was both selfish and immature, it still took the space of a few more steadying breaths before Alex could push away his confusing feelings and decide on an appropriate response.

For a split second, he thought about playing along to avoid the possibility of upsetting Meredith further. But that felt cruel somehow, in a way that he couldn't endure. So he finally answered honestly, "No, Mer. It's me- I mean, it's Alex. Don't worry. I will fix this, ok?" He promised.

He didn't know how much of what was happening Meredith was aware of, so he tried to sound confident and reassuring. But even as he stilled her shaking hand between his own and tugged it gently away from her red eyes, his mind was racing.

Headache, anxiety, confusion, excessive sweating, slurred speech... he began mentally cataloging each one of her symptoms, struggling to detach from his fear and find the objectivity that he needed to diagnose her correctly.

"Mm tired." Meredith whimpered then, distracting him from his thoughts. But as watched her glassy blue eyes flutter shut, the last piece of the terrifying puzzle he had been trying to assemble finally fell into place.

"No, no, no. Don't do that, Mer." He directed urgently, roughly shaking her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her. "Meredith!"

She didn't answer him, but now that Alex knew what was going on in her body, he didn't really expect her to.

"Damn it." He cursed under his breath in frustration, jumping up to flip rapidly though her chart, searching for notes that would confirm his suspicions.

The door swung open behind him again with a loud creak while he was still engrossed in the chart, but glanced up when he heard Stephanie pant,

"I'm back. I got the Offirmev."

She sounded as out of breath as if she had sprinted the whole way to the medication box and back, and he made a mental not to thank her later. But the triumph in her eyes faltered when she noticed the unconscious patient between them.

"What happened?" Stephanie asked in a wary voice, seeming to sense from the mood in the room that the answer would not be good.

"She passed out." Alex snapped, still rifling frantically through Meredith's binder of extensive treatment notes. He felt bad for the obviously frightened resident, but there was no time to be sensitive; right now, he needed information. "I think it's hypoglycemic shock." He said shortly. "Did anyone make sure that Dr. Grey finished all of her meals yesterday?"

"I don't know…" Stephanie began nervously, eyes big and round as she stared at Meredith's still form.

"Well, what about today?" Alex growled impatiently.

"Dr. Pierce was here this morning," Stephanie choked out, swiping away a stray tear that slipped down her pale cheek. "But she got called into surgery and I scrubbed in with her. I think meal service just dropped off all of Dr. Grey's meals after that."

"Damn it," Alex cursed again, giving up on the binder and making the choice to go with his instincts. Channeling his fear into urgency, he commanded resolutely, "Ok. Page Bailey and bring me a bag of emergency dextrose right now."

"Run!" He barked a second later, when the girl was still standing there in frozen shock. She scurried out of the room in tears, and he knew he would need to apologize later. But for the moment, all of his attention was reserved for Meredith.

Stephanie must have taken his admonition to heart, Alex thought gratefully, because she sprinted back into the room with a panting Bailey on her heels after what felt like only seconds.

"Karev!" Miranda snapped accusingly as she stalked into the room, in her fear using his last name like he was an errant intern who deserved a scolding. "Why was I just paged 911? What the hell happened in here?"

The Chief's words were harsh and her face was angry, but her familiar presence comforted Alex anyway. He was a successful surgeon in his own right now, but that didn't matter- Bailey would always represent safety for him. And he wasn't offended by her anger, he understood that she was only managing her concern the same way that he was.

"I don't think Meredith finished any of her meals today or yesterday." Alex explained curtly as he grabbed the bag of 10 percent dextrose that Edwards breathlessly extended to him and rushed to prepare the drip. "She's been receiving continuous insulin with the TPN, and since her body isn't used to having to manufacture its own again yet-"

"-she's going into hypoglycemic shock." Bailey finished his sentence grimly, and he nodded, relieved that she agreed with his diagnosis.

"Here- give that to me." Bailey snapped, striding over to connect the tubing that his traitorous fingers were shaking too much to secure. "You have titrate it to effect," She muttered under her breath, meticulously adjusting the roller clamp that determined how quickly the solution would infuse.

A moment later, the lifesaving solution was dripping steadily into Meredith's veins; and with nothing left to do, Alex sagged limply against a wall to wait.

It took only 15 minutes for the D10 to stabilize Meredith's blood sugar, but to Alex the short wait felt excruciatingly long. Seeing Mer this pale and still was triggering unwelcome memories, and he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, only barely managing to keep himself together.

But when he finally saw her crystal eyes flutter slowly open again and heard her mumble weakly, "What happened?" then even all of the remaining self-possession he could muster wasn't strong enough to hold back the flood of overwhelming relief that made his knees buckle.

Bailey quickly crossed to the bed and Alex wanted nothing more than to follow; to run to Meredith's side and wrap her up in the safety of his arms. But his legs were refusing to work, and there were silent tears of adrenaline running down his face that he didn't want her to see. So, swiping a hand impatiently at his cheeks, he shook his head in refusal when Bailey glanced questioningly back at him, inviting him to be the one to give Meredith the information she was asking for.

He could see that his boss had tears glistening in her own eyes as well, but she cleared her throat and turned back around to attend to her patient anyway.

"Welcome back." Bailey greeted Meredith calmly, her voice sounding so light and professional that if he hadn't been there to witness it, Alex would never have believed that just a few minutes ago, she had been as rattled as he was now.

That's why she's the Chief, he thought in admiration, as Bailey continued talking.

"You scared us, Meredith." She said softly, severely underestimating how terrifying the past half hour had been. "You had a bit of a hypoglycemic episode, and we had to hang some dextrose to stabilize your sugars. That's what you're receiving through your PICC line; but it's under control now. You're ok." She rushed to finish reassuringly, as Meredith groggily turned her head to stare at the IV needle in her arm with wide, empty eyes.

She still seemed confused, Alex thought, a chill of sudden worry making goosebumps appear on his bare forearms. From his hiding place in the back of the room, he studied Meredith carefully as she nodded absently in response to Bailey's words, her eyes slowly searching the room for someone else. For him.

When she found him staring back at her she froze, holding his gaze, and he could just barely hear her question softly, "Alex?" as if she was waiting for him to confirm that everything was really ok before she would believe it.

But as relieved as he was to see her alert and responsive again, Alex was suddenly hesitant to talk to Meredith. She had called him by the right name this time, but that had only made him irrationally nervous that maybe she hadn't been confused at all when she had called out for Derek before.

Maybe when it really mattered, she would wish that it was someone else's arms around her instead of his.

Or maybe, he worried, she had compared his response in this frightening episode to how the illustrious Dr. Shepherd would have acted and changed her mind about their relationship.

He didn't think he could take it he went to her and she told him it was over. But her eyes drew him in with an undeniable magnetism, just like they always had. So even though his stomach was in his throat and he still didn't fully trust his voice not to betray him, Alex pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against. Then, doing his best to match the reassuring smile on Bailey's face, he walked up to the bed and took Meredith's cold hand gently between his own sweaty ones.

"Yeah, I'm here. It's ok." He confirmed softly.

Meredith sighed deeply at his words, her tiny body sagging back against the bed, releasing tension that he hadn't even noticed it was holding. And encouraged by the evidence that she still seemed to welcome his presence, Alex asked carefully,

"Do you remember anything that happened before you passed out?"

She didn't answer at first, and he nervously studied her face as she thought, searching for any sign that the fears constricting his chest might actually be grounded in reality.

But even though he was looking for it, Alex saw no flash of longing in Meredith's eyes that she rushed to conceal, and she didn't bite her lip or drop his gaze like she always did when she was trying to hide some little secret from him. She only shook her head slowly in response, her smooth forehead furrowed in frustrated perplexity. And her fingers subconsciously clung a little tighter to his hand, Alex swallowed hard, ashamed of the petty insecurities that relief washed away on its cleansing tide.

She didn't remember.

He was too caught up in his own mind to realize at first that Mer was still staring up at him, expecting him to offer an answer to the leading question he had asked. But the warm hand that Bailey placed on his shoulder brought him back to reality, and as she stepped in to pick up his slack yet again, he cast her a grateful glance, glad to be pulled from his unpleasant thoughts.

"It's ok if you don't remember," The Chief assured Meredith comfortingly. "That's normal. Unfortunately, none of this is uncommon for patients in your situation. We do our best to prevent it, but even despite our best efforts, sometimes people will still experience a certain level of hypoglycemia after discontinuing TPN. Yours was just a hit more severe than what we usually see."

She paused, waiting for Meredith to nod in acknowledgment before continuing with a sigh, "Your body has been receiving a continuous flow of insulin through the intravenous nutrition for weeks, and… unfortunately, I think this episode may mean that your system needs a little more time to remember how to manufacture its own again."

Meredith heard the apology in Bailey's voice as she finished speaking, and she saw the sympathy in her warm brown eyes as she stared at her, waiting for a reaction. But her brain still felt a little sluggish and foggy, so it took her a few seconds to understand what her mentor was implying by her carefully chosen words: They wanted her to delay the return to solid food.

They wanted her to go back onto the TPN.

In dawning horror, Meredith began to shake her head slowly, feeling sick to her stomach all over again from her bitter disappointment.

"No." She whispered hoarsely. The word slipped past her pale lips by accident, but once she had said it, she couldn't seem to stop. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Bailey, please." She begged.

It had taken so long to get to this point, she thought desperately. And getting off of this damn IV so that she could hug her kids again had been the goal that had kept her fighting through all of the embarrassment and frustration she'd endured so far. It had been her beacon of hope. But now, Bailey's regretful yet unrelenting expression was ripping that hope cruelly away from her.

"Alex," She whimpered on impulse, too upset to be embarrassed by the display of vulnerability as she turned her tear- filled gaze to stare pleadingly up at him.

Distantly, she heard Bailey begin to talk again, listing all the perfectly valid medical reasons for why sometimes recovery has to be two steps forward and one step back. But Meredith let the rational words wash over her without trying to comprehend them; her full attention was devoted to the silent conversation happening between her and Alex.

Unlike her attempt at seeming 'fine' yesterday, she didn't try to be strong now. Please. She begged him silently, willing him to understand the desperation that she poured into her gaze. Please, I can't go backward.

She couldn't miss out on any more of her children's lives, she thought, remembering Zola's field trip with regret. She had spent so long in this hospital bed that it was beginning to feel like a prison, and the last thing she wanted was to have more time added to her sentence.

For a long, tense moment, Alex stood silent and unmoving beside her, and Meredith held her breath as she waited for him to say something, anything in response.

She could feel his uncertainty in the painful tightness of his grip on her hand, and she understood the struggle she could see so plainly on his face. One of Alex's best qualities was his instinct to protect the people that he loved, and she knew that what she was asking him to greenlight was a risk.

But slowly, the sharp lines of his jaw softened, and when Meredith heard Alex sigh, she closed her eyes to hold back the tears of gratitude that threatened to fall.

He didn't agree with her, but his slumped shoulders meant that he would go to bat for her anyway. And as she gazed at him, she felt a little thrill of love replace the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach with something much more bubbly and pleasant.

"I think we could give it one more try before we send her all the back to square one, Bailey." Alex said lightly, and Meredith watched with wide eyes as the chief whirled to stare at him in shocked disapproval.

"Karev-" Miranda began warningly, but he boldly cut her off.

"No, just listen." He continued calmly. "Instead of scrapping all our progress, why don't we increase Mer's nightly TPN infusion by a little bit to compensate-just until she works her way up to taking enough calories orally. And we can increase the frequency of her blood sugar checks too, to make sure we catch any future fluctuations like this before they become a problem."

Bailey narrowed her eyes at him, swayed but still unconvinced. Until Alex abandoned professionalism to murmur softly, "Miranda, come on."

He murmured softly, abandoning professionalism to use her first name in a rare appeal to their personal relationship. "Come on."

And his rare appeal to their personal relationship, along with a glance at Meredith's pale and pleading face, was finally enough to make Bailey relent.

"Fine." She sighed reluctantly, stooping to wag a stern finger at Meredith. "But you have to be much more diligent, Meredith Grey. Do you understand me? The only way I will greenlight this is if you promise to let someone know immediately if you ever start to feel dizzy or lightheaded again."

Meredith rushed to nod meekly in response. "I promise." She said in Bailey's general direction. She didn't know where exactly her mentor was standing anymore; her vision was suddenly so blurred by tears of gratitude that the room around her had become just a colorful blur.

So when Alex leaned spontaneously down to kiss her, the pressure of his lips on hers took her by surprise. This was no chaste kiss, like the gentle caress he pressed to her forehead every morning. Although Meredith could tell that he was still holding back to avoid hurting her healing jaw, Alex's mouth covered hers passionately, desperately- kissing her as if he were pouring all of the relief and fear that he couldn't articulate with words into the action.

He tasted like mint toothpaste and the vanilla Chapstick she kept on her bedside table, and suddenly it didn't matter anymore that their boss was still standing only a few inches away, or that they hadn't discussed whether they were ready to announce their new relationship yet. Suddenly, nothing mattered to Meredith at all, except for the fire that was slowly growing low in her gut, and how natural it felt now to tangle her fingers in his unruly hair.

As reality receded around her, Meredith let a breathy moan of contentment escape from her lips. She would have been happy to live in that moment forever. But much too soon, the sound of someone shouting her name from out in the hall broke whatever delicious spell love had put the two of them under.

Alex stood up quickly, flushed and panting, and when she caught a glimpse of the undisguised longing in his hooded eyes, Meredith had to press her hand to her mouth to cover the giddy smile that she couldn't contain.

Then nervously, she glanced over at Bailey, unsure of what kind of reaction to expect from the woman whose opinion she and Alex both valued so greatly.

But much to Meredith's surprise, Miranda looked far from shocked by the scandalous display she had just witnessed. The smile she wore was as wide as Meredith's own, and as the door to the room banged abruptly open and Maggie rushed in, the Chief of Surgery abandoned dignity to throw her hands up in the air and exclaim gleefully, "Well, thank God! It's about damn time!"

Maggie had missed the kiss by just seconds, so as she came skidding to a stop at the foot of Meredith's bed, she mistakenly assumed that Bailey's words were meant for her.

"I know, I'm so sorry, I just heard!" She said frantically, her wide brown eyes scanning the room in a panic. She quickly took in the emotions shining from everyone's flushed faces and the dextrose drip still being administered through Meredith's PICC line and gasped breathlessly, "Oh my gosh, Meredith! Are you ok?"

"She's ok- breathe Pierce." Bailey said gently, quelling her exuberance enough to calm her upset surgeon. "Meredith had a hypoglycemic episode, but it's all under control now."

"Thank God." Maggie breathed shakily, pressing one hand to her forehead in relief. And when Meredith held her arms with an apologetic smile, she walked into the offered embrace without hesitation.

"How the hell did this happen?" She demanded a moment later. Her voice sounded muffled because her face was pressed against Meredith's shoulder, but the indignation in her words was clearly audible.

Meredith felt her face flush hot again at the innocent question- this time with much less enjoyable shame instead of lust- because she knew that this whole ordeal was all her fault. She was just opening her mouth to confess how her foolishness had landed her here, when Alex spoke up.

"We just started all of this a little too fast, I think." He said calmly. "Mer's body just wasn't ready yet."

"Well, no wonder." Maggie scoffed protectively, abruptly sitting up and wiping suspicious moisture from her eyes. "Everyone knows that hospital food is garbage. Not even a healthy stomach could digest half of the stuff they serve in the cafeteria. So from now on, Mer, I'm cooking all of your meals, ok?" She said firmly, turning from Alex to fix Meredith with a look of loving determination that clearly brooked no arguments. "You deserve some homemade nutrition."

And as her gaze travelled slowly from Maggie's earnest expression, to Bailey's knowing smile and then paused to linger on Alex's swollen lips, all Meredith could do was nod, her heart filled both with gratitude for this family that life had so unexpectedly gifted her and a renewed resolve to not let them down.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the reviews! It's so humbling to hear that people like my first full-length fic! I have gotten a few questions from guests that I wanted to just answer here, since there's no reply feature on the site.
> 
> First, regarding the pacing of the story: yes, it is deliberately slow. My goal in writing this fic was to explore what a recovery from these injuries would look like more thoroughly and realistically than ABC was able to cover within the time constraints of a 45- minute episode. With all the trauma that Mer underwent, it would be a long road back to health for her- both physically and mentally- so I wanted to show how she arrived at the strength we see in the end of the episode.
> 
> Second, for those asking about Amelia and Lou: yes! I will be bringing them both back in the same way we saw in the episode. My plan is to keep everything that happened in the show intact- obviously except for Jo and Alex- and just to fill in the blanks with my imagination.
> 
> Hope that helped, thank you for reading!

Chapter 24

When Alex had decided to advocate for Meredith to continue transitioning from the TPN infusion- unable as usual to refuse her anything when she blinked at him with those wide, pleading eyes- it had been a choice made as a boyfriend and not a doctor. He had taken Mer's side like he knew she had been hoping he would, but even though he had put on a confident front, he would have honestly felt a lot more comfortable going with Bailey's conservative timeline.

The dramatic consequences of her blood sugar fluctuations had shaken him more than he was willing to admit to anyone except himself, and now no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape the nagging worry that the incident would happen again- maybe this time when he wasn't there to stop it.

So although he tried to dress his relentless fear as just loving concern, Alex kept a meticulous sentry over Meredith's blood sugar levels from then on. On a few occasions, he even remorselessly robbed interns of a valuable learning experience by insisting on performing the blood draws himself. But to his overwhelming relief, his vigilance revealed none of the underlying problems he had worried he would find. Every one of Mer's readings continued to come back consistently normal. On the contrary, every one of Meredith's readings continued to come back consistently normal. And rather than needing long term nutritional support, like yet another worst-case scenario his mind had relentlessly conjured for him, Meredith was successfully weaned off of the TPN in just a week- a miracle for which Alex knew Maggie deserved almost all the credit.

While he had been managing his increased anxiety by hovering, finding a small measure of comfort in personally monitoring the minutia of Mer's medical plan, Maggie had chosen to bury her own fears by controlling a different facet of her sister's recovery- the food she ate.

That night after Meredith had passed out, he had been far too distracted by his coursing emotions and the taste of Mer's mouth on his lips to have paid much attention to the impassioned vow that Maggie was making to rectify the hospital's disappointing culinary options. So even though he had noticed with surprise when an orderly brought Meredith's breakfast the very next morning that her food suddenly looked a lot more appetizing than it had the day before, he didn't realize the reason for a while longer.

It was only once he reeked so strongly of sweat and hospital that even the emergency deodorant he kept in his locker couldn't mask the musk anymore that he finally convinced himself that he had no choice but to leave Meredith's side- at least long enough to go home, take a shower, and spend some time with the kids. Then, as soon as he opened the front door of her familiar brick house, a delicious waft of competing aromas slapped him in the face and all at once, he remembered Maggie's words with gratitude.

It had been hours since he had last eaten and his stomach growled hungrily at the inviting scents swirling around him, but still Alex paused in the doorway for a long moment before going inside, fighting against an unexpected rush of déjà vu. Because the last time he had opened Meredith's front door and found the air inside smelling gourmet, it had been Izzie flitting around the kitchen, wrapped a frilly pink apron that matched her rosy cheeks; and every available inch of Mer's ample counter space had been claimed by baskets overflowing with muffins.

Not too long ago, this unexpected memory of his former wife would have been a painful reminder of the throbbing hole that she had torn in the fabric of his heart when she had disappeared. At best, it would have ruined his night; and much more likely, it would have sent him into a several- day -long depression spiral from which in the end, only copious amounts of alcohol would be able to pull him out. But now, even though Alex braced himself for the familiar rush of self- loathing and shame- it never came.

Incredulous, he shut the door softly behind himself and walked slowly into the kitchen, smiling distantly in return when Maggie turned at the sound of his footsteps to wave hello from behind the wall of jars filled with colorful purees that surrounded her. And after she turned her attention back to the pot still simmering on the stove, Alex surveyed the scene before him numbly, still in shock that his mind hadn't automatically pulled up the trauma he had become resigned to wading through on a daily basis.

But no matter how long he stood there, his stomach refused to twist with guilt. For the first time, the thought of Izzie's name didn't immediately trap him in an endless cycle of reliving all the ways he had ever failed her and wondering if he could somehow have kept her from leaving him. For the first time in all those years, his mind was clear, and he was free to remember the happier moments that pain had obscured until now. Like how much weight Izzie's cooking phase had made him gain, he suddenly thought with amusement. He had put on at least ten pounds in the less than two months that she had made muffins her hobby, and much to his surprise, Alex found himself genuinely laughing at the memory- something else he had never been able to do before.

It's Mer, he mused reverently, as his chest swelled again with that contented warmth that he still hadn't gotten used to. She was healing parts of him that been broken for too long, and he was too amazed to summon any embarrassment when Maggie turned around to raise a quizzical eyebrow at his sudden outburst. Because somehow over the past few weeks, Meredith's love had quietly crept in and stolen the pain from his past, leaving only the joy in its place.

After a few more days, it was obvious to Alex that Maggie's lovingly crafted purees were slowly having the same plumping effect on Meredith now that Izzie's cooking had taken on him so many years ago- and he couldn't be kind enough to express how much he loved her for it.

Pierce had earned her reputation as a meticulous surgeon- every move she made in her OR was always both carefully researched and flawlessly executed. And as he watched Meredith's ribs slowly became less and less prominent through her sheets, Alex realized with gratitude that Maggie had been just as intentional in the kitchen as she was in surgery.

She added healthy extras to Mer's food that he had never even heard of before- things like ghee (for essential calories and fats, she said sagely) whey isolate powder (for vital protein), and baobab powder and manuka honey (for immune support, she promised brightly). And just like every other endeavor Maggie Pierce had ever undertaken, this experiment was successful too.

The homemade meals that she brought in to the hospital for Meredith every day before her shift began were sealed in sparkling glass canning jars and they smelled so tempting that he couldn't help stealing little tastes even in spite of the odd texture- much to Mer's gleeful delight and Maggie's indignant disapproval.

But best of all, as the days passed slowly by, Meredith was starting to look more like the vibrant woman he remembered again, and less like a frightening shadow of her former self. Her features were finally softening again, losing some of the haunting sharpness they had taken on since the attack, and even her energy and endurance seemed to be improving. The physical therapy exercises that used to reduce her to tears, she now completed easily, driven by the desire to be deemed strong enough to see her kids again. And after months of hard work, all of her admirable determination was finally about to be rewarded.

It was exactly two weeks to the day after that terrifying night when he had worried that they might never make it to this moment, that Alex found himself sitting in unmoving traffic on the 205, wearing a cheesy grin that even the gridlock and the jarring noise of car horns couldn't steal from him. Because today was the day that Zola and Bailey and Ellis would finally get to visit their Mommy, like they had been begging to do every day since the attack.

Although he liked to think that his support had been at least slightly helpful too, Alex knew that imagining the moment that she could hold her kids again was what had kept Meredith fighting through the worst of her depression and hopelessness. Now it was here, and his heart was so full of pride and love that he thought he might explode.

And it wasn't only the grown-ups who were excited- Bailey and Zola had stayed up well past their usual bedtime last night, making adorable, fingerpainted pictures for their mommy. Brushing their teeth took lots of cajoling, and even after he had finally managed to coax them into their beds, they had taken turns reappearing at the top of the stairs every few minutes for hours afterward to ask what time it was, too full of eager anticipation to sleep.

After the restless night, Alex had downed two espressos as he dressed the older kids for school, taking extra time to carefully fix Zola's hair in the intricate style that was Mer's favorite. They had only been 10 minutes late for school, an amount of time which he was choosing to call a win, considering the circumstances. And now, with only baby Ellis left in the backseat, he turned Mer's Lexus back toward the hospital. As hard as it was to wait, he had decided to do the visit after he picked the kids up from school that afternoon. The morning was to give Meredith the time she would need to prepare.

The entire freeway was complete gridlock, par for the course on a Monday at 9 in Seattle. But even though there was nowhere to go, a car somewhere behind them suddenly blared its horn loudly, breaking into Alex's happy thoughts. And when Ellis began to fuss, startled out of her nap by the sudden sound, he had to fight the urge to stick his hand out Mer's sunroof and flip the other driver off.

"It's ok, Ellie," He said soothingly, twisting in his seat to reach back and rub her silky little head.

But more horns soon joined the first, creating a discordant symphony of road rage which meant that, despite his best efforts to console her, the baby continued to cry. So giving up on the hope of Ellis finishing her nap, Alex pulled his hand back into the front of the car and leaned over to fish through the well-stocked diaper bag that had been riding in the passenger seat beside him, hoping to find a toy or a snack or something to distract her while they waited for the freeway to get moving again.

He was elbow deep in Mer's bottomless JuJuBe, red-faced and sweating as he dug through more crap than a bag that size should rationally be able to hold, when his phone rang.

"Hello?" He grunted, pinning the phone between his shoulder and his ear. It was illegal to use your hands to make a phone call while driving in Washington State, but, he thought to himself mischievously, if you bent the rules just a little, this was technically hands-free.

"Alex?" The uncertain voice on the other end of the line took him by surprise.

"Cristina," He said softly, pushing himself back upright with a sigh of relief when he felt his hand finally close around the foil shape of an un-opened applesauce pouch. "Sorry- hold on one second."

Quickly twisting the lid off of the pouch, he reached back over his shoulder and placed it in Ellis's flailing hands. He waited for one minute longer, until her shrill cries were replaced by satisfied silence, then he relaxed against the headrest and turned his attention back to the phone.

"Hey. Isn't it the middle of the night there?" He asked in concern, glancing at his watch for confirmation. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah, it's like 3 am." Cristina moaned into the phone, "And I'm in surgery instead of my warm bed." She sounded so similar to the way she used to complain about being on call when they were interns, that Alex couldn't help smiling, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him. "Anyway, I don't have long," She continued. "But- I just can't concentrate. I owe it to this guy to be focused on his heart, but instead of valves, all I can think about is Mer. So how is she?" She demanded softly, her voice dipping lower as if for privacy, even though Alex knew that if she was in surgery, at least 4 other people were listening to their conversation.

"She's great." Alex said honestly, hoping that Cristina could hear in his voice the huge smile that had returned to his face again while she was talking. "Mer's doing great. We are still waiting to see if her hearing will make a complete comeback, and her jaw will still be wired for another few weeks. But she's totally off the TPN now, her broken ribs are nearly healed, and Torres said she thinks she'll be ready to put some weight on her broken leg again soon."

"Good." Cristina breathed, the open relief in her voice clearly audible even over the noise of pickups clattering loudly down onto a metal instrument tray in the background. "We got lucky."

"Yes, we did." He agreed seriously, pausing to ponder once again exactly how lucky they had been. Meredith's injuries were extensive, but as a doctor, Alex knew first- hand that things could always be a lot worse.

"I'm on my way to see her right now," he offered after a minute, ready to return to a brighter topic. "We're finally going to bring the kids in later today."

"God, I miss those little crazies." Cristina groaned fondly through the static crackling through his speaker, and Alex chuckled at what he knew was a rare display of affection for her.

"You wouldn't even recognize them anymore, they're so tall. It's been too long, Cris." He joked. But he was half serious and he knew his friend heard the subtle reproach hiding behind his words.

"I know." She sighed regretfully. "Listen Alex, I have to go. Thanks for the update. Remember to call me if anything changes again. I know where to find enough Xanax to sedate a horse, and a direct flight can get me to SeaTac there in under 16 hours."

"I promise," Alex chuckled, amused by her blunt wording, before assuring her more seriously, "But really, Mer is good. I think we may have finally turned a corner."

"Yeah, well it would be about damn time." Cristina mumbled in response. But she sounded distracted, and a few seconds later he heard the shrill beeping of a heart monitor alarming. "Get me 4-0 Prolene!" Cristina snapped to someone in the room. Then just as suddenly as it had come, the call disconnected, and he realized that traffic was finally moving again.

After Alex had settled Ellis in Grey Sloan's on-site daycare, he rode the elevators back down to the ground floor and went back outside to the Lexus, to retrieve a bag that he had forgotten. In it, he had a surprise for Mer that he was nervously hoping might help make an already special day even better.

When he reached her room, he slipped inside and shut the door behind himself as quietly as possible, expecting that Meredith would still be asleep this early in the morning. But when he glanced up after setting down his heavy bag, she was sitting straight up in the narrow hospital bed, watching him with a smile.

"Hey," He greeted her softly, crossing the floor to bend down and press a gentle good morning kiss to her upturned face. "You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

As she shook her head in response to his question, Mer's smile seemed to grow impossibly wider. And faced with the happiness that he had missed so desperately; Alex couldn't help grinning back at her.

"I know. It's a big day!" He chuckled in response to the impatience he could see dancing in her eyes.

She shifted to make room for him on the bed, and with a grateful sigh, he sank gingerly down beside her. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, until a sudden yawn took him by surprise. Yep, he decided; it was definitely time for more coffee.

"Have you had breakfast yet, Mer?" Alex asked, waiting for Meredith to roll her beautiful blue eyes in annoyance at this continuation of his smothering concern. But the raised eyebrow that accompanied her answer was much more teasing than it was serious.

"Yeah," She answered softly, "An hour ago."

She had been talking more and more lately as the soreness in her throat subsided. Her words still sounded slightly slurred, since the wires meant that she couldn't move her lips, but the chain-smoker raspyness was significantly less, and Alex felt a thrill of happiness at how much easier it was to understand her again when she said wryly, "Maggie made oatmeal puree this morning. It was surprisingly not disgusting."

"Wow. Coming from you, that's high praise." He chuckled teasingly, watching in open adoration as Meredith wrinkled her nose at him.

"Stop it," she laughed hoarsely, slapping at his chest weakly. "At least I ate it. You know I usually hate oatmeal."

"I know.' He said softly, letting silence settle between them for a moment, content just to soak in the bright sound of her happiness that he had missed for so long.

But after a few minutes had passed, Meredith lifted her head from where it had come to rest casually on his shoulder and looked up to search his face.

"Alex?" She questioned softly, concerned by his stillness. "What is it?"

At first, Alex didn't know exactly how to answer her. After years of hiding these feelings for her out of respect for their friendship, he still had to push past a reaction of knee jerk panic every time he broke that habit. But even though he felt like he was doing something wrong taking he hand gently in his, he did it anyway, rubbing gently circled across her knuckles with his thumb as he confessed honestly,

'It's just nice to hear your voice again, Mer. I've missed you."

She smiled shyly at him in wordless response, cheeks flushed a soft pink at the still- new emotion in his words. And for the second time just that morning, Alex marveled at how lucky he was to be the one she had chosen for the privilege of being her by her side.

"Hey, I brought something for you," He said after one more reverent moment of reflection, abruptly letting go of her hand to reach down and pull the nearly forgotten bag into his lap.

Meredith stared curiously as Alex unzipped the top compartment of his backpack and reached inside, and when he pulled out a brown paper Dutch Bros bag with a corny theatrical flourish, she couldn't help but gasp.

"Coffee?" She asked incredulously, knowing that she was right by the delicious smell wafting toward her even before he pulled a tall paper cup out of the bag and held it out toward her.

"Not just coffee," Alex clarified, pressing the warm container carefully into her good hand, not letting go until he was certain that she had a good grip on it. 'Your favorite kind- a caramel latte."

Meredith wrapped her fingers eagerly around the cup, shivers running down her spine as her hand soaked up the warmth of the beverage seeping comfortingly through the cardboard into her skin. But as badly as she wanted to, she did not immediately raise the swizzle straw that Alex had thoughtfully included to her lips.

"Are you sure it's ok for me to have caffeine?" She asked longingly. She had been dreaming of coffee for weeks now, but her kids were coming today and she didn't want to take any chances that might jeopardize the moment she had been waiting for.

"Yep," Alex replied confidently, swallowing a mouthful of his own drink. "I already cleared it with Bailey. And I got a half-caf too, just to be extra safe."

"Mer, I swear it's fine." He laughed gently, when after a few moments, she was still hesitating. "Trust me; go ahead and take a sip."

She did trust Alex, she thought to herself, with her life. So take a sip she did, not even caring when a little bit of the syrupy sweet liquid escaped her mouth and trickled down her chin- as usual. And even though it was half decaf, and she was usually more of a full-strength person, the first taste of coffee again after so long was even more delicious than she had remembered.

Between hasty swallows that burnt her tongue, she managed to remember her manners long enough to say earnestly, "Thank you, Alex. It's perfect."

He shrugged off her gratitude as usual, but Meredith could tell he was pleased to know that she liked the drink; even though all he said was, "I just thought it might help you to feel a little but more like yourself again."

"Also," He added jokingly after they had enjoyed a few more sips of their drinks together. "In case you've forgotten, your kids are a handful. You're going to need that caffeine later."

Alex's words sent a fresh surge of excitement swelling inside Meredith, even as she laughed because she knew he was right. She remembered exactly how exuberant Bailey and Zola could be, and even though sometimes it had used to drive her crazy, now she missed their relentless energy and life more than she had ever imagined possible.

"I can't wait." She said eagerly, her voice wavering a little with sudden emotion. "What time will they be here?"

"Ellis is up in the daycare already," Alex answered. "And I'll bring Zola and Bailey over once I pick them up from school- they finish around lunchtime today. I thought about having them skip school and just coming straight over, "He continued. "But I wanted to give you some time this morning to prepare first, because they haven't seen you since before…" He paused uncomfortably then, clearly searching uncertainly for the most sensitive way to refer to the tragedy she had been through. So Meredith filled in the blank for him.

"Attack." She finished bravely. "It's ok, Alex, you can say it. It will be the first time they've seen me since before my patient attacked me and turned my face into a Picasso painting."

Alex stared at her in surprised concern as sudden tears stung her eyes, and she dipped her head as much to hide them as to escape his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Mer. I didn't mean to upset you." He murmured gently, reaching out to pull her into his side comfortingly. But even though she expected him to, he didn't argue with the harsh word she had chosen. All he said as he pressed a kiss to the top of her bowed head was, "If it helps, I think your face looks beautiful."

She knew he was trying to comfort her, but his kind words didn't help. Wordlessly, Meredith shook her head, her cheek rubbing against the rough fabric of his shirt in denial. She didn't doubt that Alex meant what he had said, she had heard the sincerity and the pain in his voice. But the harsh truth was that she still looked nothing like herself, and she couldn't let the kids see her like this.

Just a few moments ago, she had been feeling so happy and proud of her progress. But now she once again painfully aware of the fading bruises still mottling the pale skin of her neck in garish colors, and the wires immobilizing her jaw and garbling her speech, her unwashed hair and the baggy hospital gown that hung shapelessly from her thin frame.

How had she not thought of this before now? She berated herself bitterly, closing her eyes to block out her offending appearance along with the room around her. She had let herself get been so caught up in the excitement of finally getting to the moment she'd been longing for that she hadn't even considered how jarring it would be for Bailey and Zola to see her like this.

She could still remember being Zo- Zo's same age- 5 years old- and being ushered by a stranger into an ER cubicle where she had seen her own mother dressed in a hospital gown, after she had unsuccessfully attempted to take her own life right in front of her daughter. Ellis Grey had never been warm and maternal, but she had been her mommy all the same; and the emotional shock of seeing the woman who was supposed to be taking care of her looking so frail and lifeless, her wrists encircled by bloody bandages, was a feeling that she had never forgotten. It was a feeling that Meredith would never inflict on her own 5-year-old.

She needed a lot more than coffee before she would feel anything like the mommy she wanted to be for her kids, she realized slowly, bitter tears stinging her eyes as she realized what she had to do.

"Alex, I don't think the kids should come today after all." She mumbled past the rapidly growing lump in her throat, trying her hardest to keep from dissolving into angry sobs. "I need a shower- from a faucet and not just a bowl. I need real clothes instead of this hospital gown, and something to hide these bruises…" She trailed off for a moment, gathering the courage to raise her eyes to his sympathetic face before whispering, "I don't want them to remember me this way."

Meredith half-expected Alex to argue with her, to insist that she was beautiful just the way that she was and that everything would be fine. But she should have known better; Alex had never been anything less than honest with her. It was one of the qualities that she loved most about him.

So instead of offering her trite platitudes in an attempt to make her feel better, he just bluntly agreed with her.

"You're right." He said simply, but she didn't hear in his voice any of the hopelessness that had colored hers. He sounded sympathetic, but also strangely upbeat for the heavy conversation they were having. And when she glanced quizzically up at him through her tears, the excitement still shining in his eyes confused her even further.

"Why aren't you more upset about this?" She sniffled accusingly at him, feeling a little hurt by his bewildering reaction to her pain.

"Because there was more than just coffee in the bag, Mer." He said kindly. "Look." Then when he reached inside a separate pocket of his backpack and pulled out a set of loungewear with the tags still attached, her razor, and two bottles of shampoo and conditioner in her favorite scent- lavender- she finally understood the excitement in his eyes. She might have forgotten about the complexities of her physical appearance, but Alex hadn't. And he'd come prepared.

He was still watching her with a gentle smile, and in the face of his thoughtfulness, Meredith was suddenly overcome with embarrassment for her outburst.

A small, "Oh." was all that she managed to choke out past the lump in her throat. The little word was not nearly enough to express her gratitude for his thoughtfulness, but she had never needed words with Alex.

"It's ok." He said gently, eyes soft as they studied her face, excusing her answer as if he could read her thoughts. "I cleared it with Torres and Bailey last week. I'll just wrap your casts up to keep them dry, and then Maggie will come in and help you shower and get ready."

Meredith still had no words, but he was watching her almost nervously, and she wanted him to know how grateful she was for his forethought. So she nodded as emphatically as she could, reaching out to finger admiringly the soft fabric of the cashmere sweater that she didn't recognize.

Alex noticed her motion and asked softly, "Do you like it?"

His voice sounded uncharacteristically hesitant as he explained why she could not remember ever wearing the outfit before. "It's new… I looked through your closet first, but I didn't think any of your old clothes would fit you yet."

He had gone shopping. She thought incredulously. Alex Karev had gone shopping for her- and at Nordstrom's, she realized with a stunned glance at the still attached tags. Then suddenly silence wouldn't suffice anymore.

Dropping the sweater, she reached out to taking his hand in hers impulsively, pulling him close enough to plant a grateful kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, he looked at her in amused surprise, and she finally found her voice.

"It's perfect." She said hoarsely, thinking to herself, You're perfect, as she watched the sunlight stream in through her window and illuminate flecks of gold in his chocolate brown eyes. I love you.

Alex flushed, obviously relieved at her pleasure. He squeezed her fingers gently before dropping her hand to bend down and pull a stack of yellow trauma gowns and duck- tape from the final compartment of his bag. And when he straightened back up again, arms full of rustling, wrinkled plastic, to ask brightly,

"Ready for this?"

She smiled, finally swiping away the last of her tears.

"I'm ready."

Both she and Alex were highly educated surgeons, so when Alex pulled out the plastic and started to wrap her outstretched arm, Meredith rationally concluded that figuring out how to keep a couple of casts dry would be easy compared to the intricate work they were used to doing every day. But she was wrong.

It took Alex nearly 30 minutes to meticulously ensconce her limbs in plastic; and as she watched in amusement, Meredith thought to herself wryly that he could probably have performed an appy in less time. Still, even though she was so impatient to get into the shower that she could hardly sit still, it was sweet how careful and concerned for her he was. So eventually, she let her eyes drift closed and tried to relax. It was only once she heard Alex rock back onto his heels and huff out a breath of satisfaction that she opened them again to study his painstaking handiwork. And once she saw the results, she couldn't contain her laughter.

Her arm and leg, already bulky from the plaster casts she wore, had been swallowed by so many plastic, yellow trauma gowns, that they no longer resembled human limbs at all. Instead, they looked like the presents Alex tried so hard to wrap at Christmas: puffy and garishly bright and so laminated in tape that they were nearly impossible to open. In the excitement of Christmas morning, Alex's obsession with tape could be a little bit frustrating; but for their purposes now, Meredith supposed in amusement that it could be a good thing. Even if she did look ridiculous.

The sound of her continuing giggles made Alex pause from his final inspection of her leg and grin shyly up at her from his spot on the floor by her bed. He didn't look offended that she was laughing at his hard work, but he didn't join in either. Instead of mirth, his eyes gazed up at her from behind the fringe of his lengthening hair with barely suppressed longing that stirred something deep inside her core.

Then suddenly Meredith found herself fantasizing about a lot more than just a shower. Without warning, she was suddenly envisioning Alex standing beneath the steaming water with her, his slick, naked body pressed up against her back, and those chocolate brown eyes rolling back into his head with pleasure.

Meredith's breath caught audibly in her throat as the explicit imagery filled her mind, unbidden. But even though she flushed at the realization, when it took concentrated mental effort to push the tantalizing daydream away, she had to admit to herself that her body wanted it- wanted him.

"All done." Alex pronounced then, oblivious to all of the scandalous things he was still doing to her in her head… she hoped. Alex cannot read your mind, she told herself firmly to assuage a sudden rush of embarrassment. But illogical as it was, she couldn't deny that sometimes her understood her so well that it felt like he was peering into her innermost thoughts. So, cheeks still flushed hot and bright, Meredith was careful to avoid his gaze as she nodded in response- just in case.

Thankfully, Alex didn't comment on the color of her cheeks or her strange behavior. He just ran one last careful hand over the rustling plastic and said approvingly, "I think you're pretty watertight, Mer, so I'm going to go let Maggie know we're ready for her."

When he pushed himself back up onto his feet and headed toward the door, Meredith almost called out to him to stay. But they were still so new, and no matter how good she felt at the moment, she knew that she could still barely hold herself upright for longer than a few minutes at a time. So as badly as she wanted to do the opposite, Meredith bit her lip and silently watched the door swing shut behind his broad shoulders. There could be no soapy shower sex today.

The strength of her sudden lust surprised her, and a part of her felt frustrated and disappointed that she couldn't act on her fantasies right then and there. But if she was completely honest with herself, a much larger, more rational part of her knew that a cramped hospital shower wasn't really where she wanted to have Alex for the first time anyway.

On the rare occasions when Meredith had let herself imagine the two of them together over the years, she had always pictured their first time as special and slow. Slow and special certainly wasn't how she had navigated her other sexual relationships in the past; she had always been more of a supply closet quickie, back pressed roughly up against the shelves kind of girl. But there was something about this felt different and final, and even though she knew that she was probably being sentimental, she found that she didn't care.

She couldn't operate the same way that that she always had in other relationships, because this wasn't just any relationship, and this wasn't just any guy. The stakes were much higher now.

Alex had been one the most important people in her life for years now, and although she was still too afraid to fully admit it to herself, deep in her heart Meredith secretly hoped that he would be her very last first time.

A few minutes later, the sound of a door banging open pulled Meredith from her private thoughts with a jolt, and she looked up to smile at Alex as he walked back into the room with Maggie trailing behind him.

When her sister saw her bulky, plastic wrapped limbs, her immediate reaction was nearly identical to what Meredith's own had been: a sudden fit of hysterical giggles.

"Oh my Gosh," Maggie gasped when she could finally speak again, doubled over in the middle of the room panting as she tried to catch her breath. "I'm sorry, Mer, but you look like a Cheeto!"

Then whirling to face Alex, she asked incredulously, "Alex, you work in a hospital. Did you not know that we have specific cast bags? Or were you intentionally trying to embarrass poor Meredith?"

As she watched Alex's cheeks redden with embarrassment that he immediately tried to hide, Meredith felt halfway bad for giggling again too, but Maggie's laughter was infectious and she just couldn't help herself. It was true that the cast bags would have been much quicker and less silly looking, she thought to herself in amusement. Still, Alex wasn't the only one who could have remembered that they had a more efficient option- Meredith also worked at this hospital, and she had forgotten all about the thick, plastic bags in the PT storage closet too. They were both just too excited about the kids coming to think clearly about anything else, she decided, and a little thrill of eagerness twisted in her stomach as if to confirm her conclusion.

When she tuned back into the conversation going on around her, Maggie was still teasing Alex relentlessly and he was looking more and more obviously uncomfortable, so Meredith decided to come to his rescue.

"I think the gowns worked perfectly." She said, straining her throat to be heard over Maggie's continued laughter and smiling genuinely at Alex when his eyes met hers in surprise. "They've given us all a good laugh, and God knows how badly we've needed that."

"Yes, we definitely have." Maggie sighed in agreement; her mirth finally tempered again by Mer's veiled reminder of the difficulties of the last few months. "So I guess we actually owe you a thank you then, Dr. Karev."

Alex shook his head at the women in mock exasperation, good naturedly playing along with Maggie's teasing; but Meredith could feel his gratitude in the parting squeeze that he gave her uninjured hand, and she was glad that she had spoken up. Alex was a lot more sensitive than he liked for people to know, she thought warmly as she watched him walk stiffly toward the door. And the thought that she was the only one he trusted enough to show that side of himself made her stomach flutter with happiness.

"What can I say?" He quipped lightly to Maggie, "It's just what I do."

Then turning to face Meredith again, he asked "Mer, you ok if I leave you two girls alone now?"

Even after Meredith nodded confidently in response to his question, Alex still lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, reluctant to leave.

"We'll be fine." Maggie said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder that revealed the concern she'd been hiding behind her laughter. "I promise."

Alex nodded gratefully, and then the moment of shared vulnerability passed as quickly as it had come. Before the door closed softly behind him, Alex heard Maggie call bluntly after him,

"Why don't you spend some time in the shower too, Karev? You stink!"

One quick sniff of his armpits was all that it took to convince him that she was right; then with a chuckle of genuine amusement, Alex strode toward the locker room to take Maggie's advice.

Back in the hospital room, Meredith found that getting into the shower was trickier than she had expected. She had to lean on Maggie for support during the short walk from the bed to the bathroom far more heavily than her pride would have liked, and by the time she was situated relatively comfortably on the ice cold plastic of the shower chair, she was gasping for breath and her good leg was trembling with exertion. But once Maggie turned the faucet and the pressure of the hot water hit her scalp, she decided the discomfort had all been worth it.

"Mmm." Meredith moaned involuntarily as the warm spray embraced her cold skin. "It feels so good." Then, embarrassed by how accidentally intimate the sound had been, she quickly murmured an apologetic, "Sorry."

But Maggie only smiled and said kindly, "Please. I've always said that there's not much a hot shower can't fix."

Normally Meredith would have disagreed; her go to coping methods had historically been tequila and inappropriate sex, not showers. But in that moment, she found herself nodding in agreement with Maggie's statement. The soothing heat of the water felt even better on her sore muscles than she had imagined it would. Everywhere the pressure of the spray hit her felt instantly relaxed, so she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the water, letting the billowing steam purge the memories of the last few weeks from her pores until she felt almost normal again.

In her bliss, Meredith almost forgot about Maggie. Until after a few minutes she heard a quiet voice to her right ask respectfully, "Mer? You ready for Shampoo?"

Maggie's fingers were gentle as they threaded themselves through her tangled hair and massaged scented lather into her scalp, and Meredith was glad to finally trade the sterile smell of hospital for familiar lavender again. But there was something about the way that Maggie smoothed the conditioner onto her ends with both hands that reminded her of the last time she had needed another woman's help to shower, almost 15 years ago now. Then unexpected tears stung her eyes as her mind drifted to the almost forgotten memory of Cristina and Izzie holding her up, washing from her hair the blood and soot of the explosion that had almost claimed her life.

She missed them, Meredith realized. Then she felt secretly guilty and ungrateful for even thinking it while the surprise little sister that the universe had blessed her with was uncomplainingly getting her scrubs soaked right next to her at that very moment. But no matter how fiercely she loved Maggie, the truth was that no one would ever be able to replace the spot that Izzie and Cristina had held in her heart. They had become her family too, and in her vulnerability, Meredith couldn't help wishing that they were there to lean on once again.

Maggie let her stay in the shower until the water ran cold instead of hot, and the skin on her fingers shriveled up until they looked more like raisins than digits. Then she reached out to shut off the faucet, and wrapped Meredith in a warm but scratchy hospital towel before helping her step out of the shower and sit down on the toilet.

"Sorry, I know it's cold out here." She apologized when Meredith failed to suppress a sudden shiver. "Just a second, let me go grab your clothes."

She walked quickly out of the steam- filled bathroom and returned just a few moments later holding the loungewear that Alex had brought and a small hair dryer.

"Mer, this is gorgeous." She exclaimed appreciatively, holding up the blush colored cashmere sweater that Meredith had admired earlier. "Have you ever worn this before? I didn't know you had such good taste!"

With a shrug, Meredith responded simply, "It's new."

But when Maggie slipped the top over her head and the silky material settled cozily around her shoulders in a perfect fit, she felt love- warm and slow, like maple syrup- come trickling into her chest. That she might not fit her clothing anymore due to all the weight she had lost was just one more detail she hadn't thought to consider. But apparently- she thought, as Maggie recovered from the sweater and began gushing over the leggings that were apparently all the rage right now- Alex had. And suddenly the snug comfort of the fabric encircling her shoulders felt like a private hug from him.

Once Maggie had helped her pull on the leggings, which proved to be just as soft and inviting as the sweater, and she had slipped her bare feet into a pair of fuzzy socks, Meredith felt like a whole new person.

With a grunt of effort, Maggie pulled her to her feet, and then supported her as she paused to stare at her reflection into the mirror for a long, speechless moment. Her sister was right, Meredith thought gratefully, the outfit was amazing. The long sleeves of the sweater covered all of her bruises, except for the ones on her face, and the romantic color of the material seemed to lend a little bit of life to her pale cheeks.

She had thought until then that what she wore wouldn't matter much- that after spending so long in a drafty hospital gown, she would just be thankful for any article of clothing that she could count on to reliably cover her butt again. But seeing herself so close to the way she would normally dress was evoking emotions in Meredith that she hadn't expected.

Maggie saw her pensive expression and used the arm she had wrapped around her waist for support to pulled her into a makeshift hug.

"You look beautiful, Mer." She said softly, and as Meredith smiled her thanks, tears sprang to her eyes. Because for the first time in a long time, she thought that she might finally be starting to recognize the woman she saw staring back at her in the mirror.

Her new feelings of positivity persisted once she was settled in an armchair by the window buoyed by the change of scenery, while Maggie painstakingly blow-dried and brushed out her hair until it shone golden in the late morning sunlight. And by the time Alex came back through the doors again, this time followed by Arizona, all of Meredith's earlier worries about seeing her kids were gone, chased away by excitement once again.

"Wow, Meredith, you look amazing!" Arizona squealed, pushing past Alex to wrap Meredith in a careful hug. "And Maggie! I think it's safe to say that hairdressing can be your backup if you ever get tired of surgery!"

Maggie laughed and answered something playfully in reply, but Alex let the women's words wash over him without comprehending them- just a flurry of tinkling laughter and disjointed sounds. He was frozen in the doorway, hand still on the knob, with mind and eyes reserved only for Meredith.

Sitting up by herself, free of the wires and tubes that he had become used to over the past few months, wearing the outfit he had so carefully chosen and wreathed by bright morning sunlight that made her look like she was glowing - she took his breath away.

Even the fading bruises on her neck and around her eyes were hardly noticeable anymore, they paled in contrast to the captivating pink glow coloring her cheeks and the familiar sparkle dancing in her crystal blue eyes when she noticed him staring. Alex had always thought that Meredith was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met, and that hadn't changed even while she'd worn a hospital gown and greasy hair.

But now? Like this? …. She was stunning, he thought numbly. For the first time in months, she looked like his Mer again, and he wasn't nearly prepared for the feelings that stirred up somewhere deep in his gut.

The passionate kiss they had shared a few days ago had ignited a fire in his chest that was still burning- because when his lips had captured hers, Mer had moaned in pleasure instead of in pain, and he was only human. Still, even knowing that he was finally allowed to feel the attraction for her he had kept hidden for so many difficult years, he had held back, almost ashamed of his selfishness for thinking of her in a sexual way while she was still sitting in a hospital bed with her jaw wired shut.

But now, as Meredith smiled coyly at him, the flash of lust that he saw darkening her gaze was undeniable. It settled in his stomach, hot and insistent, and the realization that she wanted him too finally banished his guilt, replacing it with an aching excitement that was somehow almost harder to bear.

Over the sound of his pounding heart, he distantly heard Arizona call his name, breaking the strange spell that Mer's eyes had cast over him.

"Alex?" Robbins laughed. "Aren't you coming in?"

And it was only then that he realized that he still hadn't moved from his spot in the doorway.

"Yeah," Alex answered quickly, ducking his head to hide his flushed cheeks and hooded eyes from the two women who were now both staring at him. "Yup, I'm coming."

Maggie seemed to accept his answer, as always endearingly oblivious to the subtle current of new emotion that had been running between him and Meredith for the past few weeks. But Arizona knew him too well to have missed his moment of obvious adoration, and as he came to stand next to Meredith's chair, she grinned widely at him and waggled her eyebrows at him in an expression of knowing excitement.

"Doesn't Meredith look beautiful, Alex?" She asked leadingly, the glee in her eyes telling him that she knew exactly what she was doing and that she loved every minute of the awkwardness she was causing him. But Mer did look gorgeous, and he had to make sure that she knew it. So rather than scowling and hauling his friend out into the hallway for a private chat, Alex smiled softly and agreed with her.

"Yes," He said honestly, holding Meredith's gaze when she lifted her eyes shyly to his own. "Yes, she does."


	25. Chapter 25

A few minutes later, once the loaded silence between him and Meredith began to stretch into something so obviously tender that he worried even oblivious Maggie would be able to interpret what it meant, Alex decided it was time to go.  
He wanted to stay and get lost in the blissful bubble that Mer’s beautiful blue eyes usually pulled him into, a place where it felt like they were the only two people in the world. But today he was painfully aware that they weren’t even the only two people in the room. So with a sigh of resignation, Alex reluctantly turned to leave. 

“Ok, I’ll be back soon.” He announced, already striding toward the door as he spoke. “It’s time to go get Bailey and Zola.”   
It wasn’t even noon yet and Zola and Bailey’s school day didn’t end until 2:00; but Arizona didn’t know that, and the kids offered a valid excuse for putting some distance between himself and Arizona’s rapidly growing suspicions. 

Much to Alex’s gratitude, Meredith didn’t jeopardize his escape by protesting the sudden resolution to pull her children from class early. She answered his silent request for permission with a smile wide enough to show off every one of the glinting wires encasing her teeth.   
Even if he hadn’t already known how impatient she was to see Zola and Bailey and Ellis’s little faces again, he would still have been able to tell just from the sparkle of excitement dancing in her eyes as she vigorously nodded her assent. Mer’s happiness was unmistakable; and as he stared, Alex thought that there wasn’t much that he wouldn’t do to keep it that way. Suddenly he could hardly wait to give her what she had waited so long for, and walking just didn’t seem fast enough anymore. So halfway down the hall he started to run, too full of happiness to be bothered by the disapproving frowns he received from the victimized hospital staff that he nearly bumped into.   
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

From her perch on the edge of Mer’s bed, Maggie could see Alex walk decorously down the hall until he reached the elevators; and when he broke into an unexpected jog, she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. He looked so happy, she thought, watching his retreating back with amusement. It was a nice change from the dark cloud of gloom that had seemed to hang over his head perpetually for the past six weeks. Actually, she mused thoughtfully, Mer had seemed much more cheerful lately too. 

Maggie was content to listen quietly as her sister conversed animatedly with Arizona, relieved to hear how much better her voice was sounding. But then her iPhone interrupted her happy reflections by buzzing loudly and she jumped a little, startled by the unexpected vibration against her leg.   
Annoyed by the disruption of her lunchbreak, Maggie took her time fishing the offending device out of her pocket and checking the display, but once she saw the reminder that lit up the screen her eyes widened in alarm. 

“Crap!” she hissed under her breath. She was 10 minutes late for a meeting that she couldn’t remember agreeing to. How had this happened? She wondered in frustration. She had meant to clear her schedule until later in the afternoon so that she could be included in the big reunion with the kids.

Sighing deeply, she reluctantly stood up and shoved her phone back into the pocket of her lab coat. It was only when she looked up again that she realized for the first time that both Arizona and Meredith were watching her in concern.

“What is it? Is there something wrong?” Arizona asked. 

“No, no. Sorry, there’s nothing wrong.” Maggie apologized, waving her hand dismissively. “I just realized I’m running late for a patient consult. Bailey just texted me; I guess I should have been upstairs ten minutes ago.” 

Crossing quickly over to Meredith, Maggie bent down to press a warm goodbye kiss against her sister’s cool cheek. 

“You look beautiful, Mer.” She said earnestly. “I’m so sorry I can’t stay and say hi to the kids. Give them a kiss for me and tell them Auntie Maggie will be home for bedtime tonight, ok?” 

Even though she knew she had no choice, Maggie still felt like a terrible person for leaving before such a highly anticipated moment. But Meredith nodded understandingly in response and reached out to give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Maggie, thank you. For everything.” She murmured gratefully, sounding anything but upset. “I’m lucky to have you as my sister.” 

Meredith was very rarely this vulnerable, so the sincerity Maggie could hear in her words felt even more meaningful. She wanted to throw her arms around Meredith’s neck and tell her just how much she meant to her, but instead she took a deep breath and resolutely held back the tears stinging her eyes. After her moment of weakness on that awful night when Meredith’s blood sugar had bottomed out, she had promised herself firmly that she wouldn’t cry anymore. Or at least, not in front of Meredith. Mer deserved to have someone who could be strong for her, the same way she always was for everyone in her life. 

So she mustered up a smile, albeit a misty one, and replied lightly, “Are you kidding? You never let me play with your hair! Actually, if you think about it, Mer,” She teased gently. "I’m the one who should be thanking you- today I finally got that ‘big sister makeover’ moment that 10-year-old me was always dreaming about!” Only minus all the broken limbs and faded bruises, she thought, but wisely refrained from adding out loud. 

Just like Maggie had hoped she would, Meredith laughed softly at her joke; and the musical sound carried away enough of her frustration to make her pasted- on smile grow genuine again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok Mer? I love you.” She called over her shoulder on her way out of the room. “Bye, Arizona!”  
Then she let the heavy door swing shut behind her and hurried down the hall toward the conference rooms, her white coat billowing out behind her like wings, leaving Meredith in Arizona’s care.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“You don’t have to stay with me, you know.” Meredith said quietly a few long moments later, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that Maggie’s absence had left behind. 

While they had been busy getting ready, the morning had flown pleasantly by. But now in the stillness, she had time to feel guilty at the sudden realization of how much time her friends were wasting on babysitting her. The last thing she wanted was to be left alone with no distraction from her anxious anticipation, but she hated to feel like a burden. So, putting on what she hoped was a convincingly brave expression, she once again repeated the same familiar lie she had been hiding behind for years. 

“I’m fine. Really!” She insisted. “If you have work to do, you can go.” 

“I know,” Arizona replied lightly from her precarious seat on the narrow windowsill. “You’re always fine.” Her smile was gentle, but the steely look in her blue eyes said plainly that she had seen right through Meredith’s lies and had no intention of going anywhere. “Actually,” She continued, getting up to retrieve a purse she had left lying on a chair near the door. “I brought a few things that I thought we could use to cover up some of those bruises. If you want.” 

Meredith watched in confusion as her friend crossed the room again and knelt beside her seat. But once Arizona turned her purse over and an avalanche of varying shades of concealers and different sizes of fluffy brushes came tumbling out into her lap, she gasped in sudden understanding. 

“Yes.” She said gratefully. “I’d like that.”

Meredith sat patiently under Arizona’s gentle fingers, passively letting her blend more of the creamy concealer into her bare skin than she had ever worn before. Her friend wielded her makeup brush with as much precision as if it were a scalpel, so in spite of herself, she couldn’t help but feel cautiously hopeful. And 20 minutes later, when she heard Arizona announce with audible satisfaction, “There, take a look”, she wasn’t disappointed by the results she saw in the mirror. 

For a moment, all she could do was stare at her reflection in amazement. She had never considered herself much of a makeup person- her morning routine usually included only concealer and mascara, maybe a hint of blush or tinted lip balm if she was feeling particularly adventurous. But now that she saw the transformation she had undergone in less than half an hour, Meredith thought that she might understand why other girls enjoyed makeovers so much.   
It was like she had been given a chance to become someone entirely new, she thought, studying her now almost perfectly smooth complexion and rosy cheeks in awe. Or perhaps more accurately, a second chance at who she had used to be. 

“I know it’s not exactly your color,” Arizona apologized quietly, mistaking Meredith’s stunned silence for displeasure. “But I think it’s at least doing a pretty good job of covering up the bruising.” Her voice pulled Meredith’s mind gently back to the present. Finally looking up from her reflection, she reached out to run a trembling hand down Arizona’s arm.   
“No, it’s perfect.” She murmured, meaning every word. “Thank you. Arizona.” 

Arizona beamed at the praise, clearly relieved that her handiwork had been so well received. But before she had a chance to say anything else, there was a timid knock on the door that sent Meredith’s heart leaping into her throat.

“Ooh, I think that’s the kids!” Arizona gasped excitedly, switching abruptly from friend back to doctor again to deliver a few last-minute instructions. “Now, don’t try to get up, ok?” She directed firmly, sensing Meredith’s excitement and clearly worried that her patient might be tempted to abandon common sense. “Let them come to you. And smile, but try not to open your mouth.” She finished, offering a close-lipped demonstration of her own instructions. “Because it is still a little swollen in there, and the wires… well, those metal wires could look a little scary.” 

She paused to study Meredith for a minute, her whole face softening with what looked like sympathy as she wrapped a fuzzy blanket from the bed gently around Meredith’s shoulders. Then she stepped back and asked brightly, “Ok, are you ready?” 

Meredith could only nod silently, suddenly unable to form any more words. All of her attention was already focused eagerly on the metal door of her room, the final barrier left between her and her babies. 

“All right.” Arizona breathed nervously, talking more to herself than to Meredith as she jogged the short distance from the chair to the door and placed her hand on the wiggling doorknob. “Here we go!” She squealed. Then the door swung open to reveal the four people that Meredith loved most in the world framed in the doorway; and her heart felt so full that not smiling with all of her teeth was suddenly the hardest thing she’d even done.

Alex had none of the same limitations, however. He grinned widely at her in unrestrained joy that made her stomach flutter. He looked so natural standing there in the hall with a diaper bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was only wearing sweats and sneakers, but sandwiched between Zola and Bailey and balancing baby Ellis attentively on his hip, Meredith thought to herself breathlessly that he had never looked more attractive. 

“Hey, hey, Hey! Look who’s here, guys,” Alex said enthusiastically to Zola and Bailey, gesturing with one full hand toward Meredith, who by now was so anxious to wrap her kids in her arms that she understood why Arizona had felt the need to remind her to stay in her seat.   
They looked taller, she thought, a sharp pang of loss shooting through her chest for the time with them that she would never get back. But the pain lasted only a second; and then laughing through the tears of joy that stung her eyes, she stretched out an arm toward Bailey and Zo- Zo, inviting them to come and climb into her lap again and finally catch up on the months of snuggles they had missed. To her confusion, however, none of her kids’ faces reflected her happiness; instead of running into her arms, they hesitated uncertainly in the doorway. 

Noticing their shyness and eager to help, Arizona smiled reassuringly as she bent down to be on the children’s level. “Hey guys!” She greeted cheerfully. “Your mommy is so excited to see you!” And from her spot all the way across the room, much too far from where she wanted to be, Meredith made a show of nodding vigorously along with Arizona’s words. In nervous excitement, her free hand fluttered first to her racing heart and then to her mouth to cover her frightening wires when she could no longer keep an ecstatic smile from stretching across her face. 

“Yeah, come on in.” Alex coaxed, taking Zola’s hand and tugging her gently forward. “Go ahead, Zo. Go tell Mommy what we talked about, ok?” He said. But Zola planted her little feet and locked her knees, stubbornly resisting Alex’s attempts to nudge her toward her mother. Then she whimpered three quiet words that shattered Meredith’s heart:   
“I don’t want to.” 

Zola’s reluctance took Alex by surprise, and for a second all he could do was stare at her in disbelief, feeling the air leak out of his lungs like he had been punched in the stomach. Both Zola and Bailey had missed Meredith so much that they had been begging him every night for weeks to be allowed to come and visit. Maybe it was proof of his inexperience at playing parent, he thought in confusion, but after all of that eagerness, he had never considered that the kids would feel anything other than joy when he finally gave them what they had been asking for. 

“Oh come on, Zola.” He pleaded impatiently when the quick glance of concern that he cast at Meredith revealed his own stunned shock and disappointment written all over her beautiful face. “You ask me every day, ‘when can we go see Mommy?’ Well look, she’s right there! Go over and give her a hug.” He begged, once again trying to tug Zola further into the room. He had hoped that she was just a little shy, and that his reminder of how badly she had missed her mommy would be enough to calm the little girl down. But instead of letting go of his hand and running to Meredith like he had hoped, Zola struggled even more. Digging her tiny nails into the skin of his palm so hard that he winced, she cried emphatically, “No, no, noooo!” 

Sensing how overwhelmed Alex was starting to feel, Arizona reached over to take Ellis, and he wordlessly let her. Then with his arms free of the baby’s chubby weight, he bent down to wrap her distressed older sister in a comforting hug. “Come on, Zo.” He whispered into Zola’s ear as she clung desperately to his shirt. “Please.” But she shook her head stubbornly against his shoulder, and the second he felt those curly braids moving back and forth, tickling his cheek, Alex knew it was over. Zo was as stubborn as her mommy; he would never be able to convince her to do something that she wasn’t comfortable with, and he wasn’t about to force her. 

Mer knew it was over too, he thought, glancing up at her regretfully from over Zola’s shoulders. He could see it in how stiffly she was sitting in her chair, only her stricken eyes revealing how crushed this unexpected rejection was leaving her. But she had been clinging to the hope of this moment for so long that she wasn’t willing to let it go without first putting up a fight. 

“No.” He heard her say through her wires, clutching Ellis to her chest like a stuffed animal when Arizona set her gently on her lap. “Zo- Zo, come to Mommy, honey.” She pleaded, doing her best to keep her voice light and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes pasted onto her face. “Bailey, come on!” 

But Zola only whined again, “Nooo!” 

And despite her best efforts to stay positive and avoid scaring her children any more than they clearly already were, once Bailey joined Zola’s fussing, Meredith could no longer hold back her own scalding tears. They dripped down into Ellis’s downy hair as she sobbed, still whispering desperately, “Please, Zo. Come on, honey. Bailey, please.” 

As he watched the emotional scene in front of him, Alex felt his heart breaking. Mer was shaking, her chest heaving, possibly teetering on the verge of another panic attack- and every muscle in his body was screaming at him to untangle his fingers from the tiny hands clinging to his and rush to her side. 

He was a freaking pediatric surgeon, he thought, ashamed of himself for not preparing the kids better for this moment. He worked with kids all day every day, he understood that hospitals were scary and that seeing their mommy this way for the first time in so long could be overwhelming. He was angry with himself, but even though he knew it was wrong, he was angry with Bailey and Zola too. 

It was too painful to watch the joy that had been shining in Meredith’s eyes when he’d left replaced with tears once again. So, desperate to diffuse the situation, Alex stubbornly tried again. “Let’s go talk to her.” He coaxed raggedly, even as Ellis picked up on the tension in the room and began to cry. “Bailey, come on. I’ll go with you.” 

But Arizona stopped him with a single word, her voice cutting firmly through the chaos. “Alex.” She said decisively. “Alex, we’re gonna do it later.”   
Bending down, she tried to lift the red-faced baby from Meredith’s lap, but Meredith clutched the squalling little girl tighter, unwilling to let her daughter go after only a few unsatisfying seconds. 

“No.” She said frantically, the panic in her voice escalating with each repeated syllable. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

“Mer, come on.” Arizona bent down to murmur quietly into her good ear, glancing up to smile reassuringly at the children still watching with wide eyes. “Mer, it’s ok. Let go, sweetie, it’s ok.” She soothed her friend sympathetically. “We’re gonna do it later, ok? I promise; we’ll do it later.” 

Still shaking her head no, Meredith lifted wild eyes imploringly to Alex. But even though he could feel each one of her wheezing sobs as intensely as if they were being torn from his own lungs, this time he didn’t step in to back her up. 

“Mer,” He sighed defeatedly into the too-large space between them, held helplessly in place by the crying children still clutching him like they might never let go. “Mer, she’s right. I’m so sorry; we’ll have to try again later.” 

The expression of stricken betrayal that his words brought to her face then was devastating, but they had the desired effect. Shoulders slumping in reluctant acceptance, she finally let go. 

As soon as she had the still- screaming baby safely in her arms, Arizona hurried over to the door. Alex felt her brush past him and take Zola’s free hand in her own.  
“Who wants to go to the cafeteria and get something yummy?” She asked with forced cheerfulness, trying to distract the children from their tears with promises of hospital frozen yogurt and pudding. Bribery with sugar was a proven parenting tactic; one he had used with success many times before. But although he felt Zola tug on his arm, urging him away from the still open door of Meredith’s room and toward the elevators instead, his feet wouldn’t seem to move. 

“Alex!” Arizona turned to hiss at him reproachfully, hoisting Ellis higher on her hip. “Alex, come on. I need your help.” 

Then angrily, he turned to meet his friend’s eyes over the heads of the children between them. Suddenly, he no longer cared if she found love written all over his expression or heard it trembling behind the words of his hoarse confession. He couldn’t pretend that Meredith’s distress didn’t gut him; and he couldn’t leave her alone, not even for the kids that he loved like they were his own. 

“I can’t leave her, Arizona.” He snapped, trying unsuccessfully to slip his hand out of Zola’s white- knuckled grip. “You take the kids to the cafeteria and I’ll catch up with you when Mer’s calm again.” 

Zola, whose tears had mostly stopped at the mention of sugar, started sobbing all over again when she felt Alex’s fingers release her own. But Alex had expected that. What he wasn’t prepared for was the name that came tumbling so naturally past her lips.

“No, Daddy!” She wailed. “I want you to come too!” 

In the silence that followed her outburst, Alex stared at Arizona in shock. He could feel the blood draining slowly from his cheeks as he frantically rifled through his memories, searching for some explanation for what he had just heard. He had imagined wistfully many times over the years what it would feel like to not have to correct kindergarten teachers and soccer coaches and well-meaning old people in Trader Joe’s who assumed he was the kids’ dad with an awkward smile and “No…I’m just a friend.” But regardless of his own private dreams, he had never once tried to frame himself in that light. He always called himself, “Uncle Alex”, and every time Derek came up in conversation, Alex made sure to honor his memory.

He was proud of how involved Meredith trusted him to be in her kids’ lives; he would never do anything to jeopardize that trust. 

He had just decided to chalk the whole thing up to a habit, a lapse in memory caused by how obviously upset Zo- Zo was. But then she said it again. 

“Daddy!” She whined, tugging on his hand more insistently when the only answer she received was uncertain silence. “I want to go.” 

And at the sound of her voice forming that word a second time, all of Alex’s careful reasoning fell apart. Feeling like his heart was being ripped in two, he looked to Arizona for some guidance in how to respond- a decades old habit left over from when she had been his teacher. He found a hint of his own perplexity reflected in his friend’s face at first; but dancing in her tear- filled eyes, he also saw delight. 

“Meredith is strong, Alex; she’ll be ok.” Arizona promised softly. “But you heard Zola: these kids need their Daddy.”

The implication in her voice confirmed his suspicions; she knew he and Meredith were finally more than friends, and Alex felt his cheeks flush red under her gaze. But he knew she was right. He wasn’t alone in the world anymore; somehow, he had been lucky enough to find the family he had always wanted. And now that he had, he would do whatever it took to be there for them- all of them.

So he smiled broadly at Zola, scooped her playfully up in his arms, and carried her off toward the elevators, galloping and bucking like a rodeo pony until her sobs turned into giggles. He let little Bailey press the button for the elevator, and when it arrived with a cheerful ding, Alex stepped inside along with Arizona and the kids- resolutely ignoring the lingering anxiety that twisted more insistently in his stomach the further he went from Meredith. 

He had reluctantly resigned himself to leaving Meredith alone, but just as the doors began to close, Alex saw a flash of tanned skin and navy scrubs in the distance. Suddenly, he changed his mind. Without pausing to explain, he set Zola carefully back down on her feet and lunged through the narrowing gap, ignoring Arizona’s gasp of alarm. 

“Avery!” Alex shouted, taking a few urgent steps after his friend.

His voice came out sounding ragged and desperate in a way that would have normally been embarrassing; but when Jackson turned to jog quickly over to him, Alex couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than relief. 

“Karev. What’s going on?” Jackson asked slowly. He shifted to peer around Alex, brow furrowing in concern as his gaze moved slowly over the tear- stained faces of the kids waiting in the elevator. “Wait- did something happen with Mer? Damn it, why wasn’t I paged?” He demanded, reaching for the silent pager hanging off the waistband of his scrub pants. 

“No,” Alex rushed to reassure him. “At least, not like you’re thinking.”

At his words, Jackson’s immediate panic faded, but something in Alex’s voice told him it was still too soon to be relieved. Folding his arms over his muscular chest, he stared at his friend in exasperation. “Tell me.” He commanded impatiently.

Alex nodded, but he left Jackson waiting another minute while he chose his next words carefully, mindful of the little ears still listening intently to their exchange.   
“Today was Mer’s visit,” He finally said softly. “But the kids were too scared to go in and see her.” 

Jackson cursed under his breath as he finished, and Alex knew from his grim expression that he understood the situation he was implying. “It looked like it was going to be a bad one, Avery.” He confided quietly, struggling to hold back his emotions. “She shouldn’t be alone. I need you to promise that you’ll go stay with her until I can get the kids settled.” 

To his great relief, Jackson agreed without hesitation. “Of course.” He said quickly. “I’ll go check on her right now.” 

Sighing heavily, Alex nodded. He was still unwilling to give his role as Mer’s support to anyone else, but he knew he had no choice. As badly as he wanted to be there for her, he knew that she would want him to stay with her children. Mer had always been stubbornly selfless when it came to the people she loved- it was both one of the things about her that drove him the craziest and one of her qualities that he loved the most. 

So he mouthed a silent “Thanks” at Jackson and returned to Arizona’s side, letting the elevator doors close between them with a quiet whoosh. And when Zola’s pudgy hand slipped into his own again as they began to go down, he squeezed it gently. For the moment, there was nothing more he could do.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………. 

Back upstairs, Meredith still sat in her place by the window, her shoulders warmed by the sunlight streaming gently in through the glass. But though just a hour before the brightness had felt golden and hopeful, now it seemed to be taunting her; its happy light a cruel contrast to the black tide of familiar anxiety slowly rising inside her chest.   
It had taken almost more strength than she had to keep from being swept away by her crushing despair in front of her children’s innocent eyes; but somehow, through sheer force of will, she had managed to hold herself mostly together until she had heard them walk out of the room. Leaving her alone- again. Then, exhausted, she had let go and closed her eyes and surrendered to the panic. 

And that was how Jackson found her a few moments later: lungs burning painfully, clawing frantically at her throat and gasping desperately for air that wouldn't come. 

He had recognized the warning in Karev's eyes at the elevator, and he was familiar enough with Meredith’s childhood trauma from the stories she had told him when they commiserated over their famous mothers to imagine how deeply she must be hurting. So he stopped to steel himself before he knocked softly on the open door of her room. But even before he stepped inside, he knew it was pointless. And he was right.

He had watched Alex help Meredith through a panic attack only once before- after that ill- fated dinner party no one would ever forget. But he saw immediately that this time seemed much worse than before, and he found that his mental preparation wasn’t enough to keep his own throat from closing up at the sound of her frantic wheezing, or to hold back the tears that her wracking sobs brought springing to his own eyes. 

For a second, Jackson stood frozen in the doorway, feeling out of his depth and unsure of what to do. But as he watched his friend’s distress escalate from sobs to terrified thrashing that he worried could reinjure her healing limbs, his body reacted instinctively. And suddenly, his feet were propelling him across the floor almost before his mind caught up enough to realize that he was moving. 

“Mer." He heard himself say urgently, dropping to his knees beside her chair and reaching out to pin her flailing hand between both of his own. "Hey, it's me- it's Jackson. You're ok." 

But Meredith didn’t even acknowledge his presence. She could feel strong hands wrapped around her wrist, pinning it carefully to her lap; but Jackson's voice seemed to be coming from a thousand miles away, and his words were lost to the roaring that filled her ears like a howling wind. She could tell by the softness she saw in his piercing blue eyes when his face moved to hover in front of her own that he was there to comfort her, probably sent by Alex. But he was too late, she thought hopelessly; she was already too far gone, sinking down into a churning sea of bitterness and regret. 

All her adult life Meredith had hated her mother. She had resented Ellis Grey for the coldness and negligence she had suffered at her hands during her life, and even after her death, she still blamed the toxic woman for her own continuing struggle to form healthy attachments. Ellis Grey’s devastating shortcomings as a parent were the reason why Meredith had been so unwilling to raise children with Derek in the first place, all those years ago. She had desperately wanted to start a family with the man that she loved, she had wanted the beautiful dreams that he described to become their reality; but she refused to hurt another innocent child the same way that she herself had been hurt. And she had been terrified that even if she tried her hardest, she was too emotionally damaged to ever be the kind of mother that she wanted to be. 

She had been stupid and weak, Meredith mentally berated herself angrily, fighting Jackson's continued attempts to keep her scrabbling fingers from tearing at the fragile skin of her neck as she struggled to breathe. She had fallen in love, and she had let Derek convince her that she wouldn't have to parent alone. He had promised that they would be a team, and she had believed that together, they could do anything. But Derek had broken his promise. He had died and left her behind, and now she was face to face with her greatest fear: that even her most focused efforts to carry on without him hadn't been enough. 

Naming her youngest daughter Ellis had been a way of taking power back from her past. She had hoped that associating the name with Derek’s big blue eyes and a deliciously chubby little face would somehow be healing… Or at the very least, she had hoped that every time she had to say the syllables, they would remind her to be better than her own mother had been- remind her to be excellent. 

But somewhere along the way, she had failed without even realizing it, until the look that she had seen in Zola's eyes had shattered her illusion of success. Her own daughter who she loved more than her own life had clung to Alex's hand and looked at her like she was nothing more meaningful than a stranger. Zola had looked at her like she was afraid, and Meredith had needed to choke back a surge of sudden nausea as the room had begun to spin dizzyingly around her. Because she recognized that look. It was the same one she had given her own mother- right up until the day she died. 

This bitter realization was too much for Meredith to take. She could feel her tenuous hold on self- control slowly slipping. Suddenly, conscious thought was beyond her and she was ruled only by panic and an instinct to keep breathing. But even as she escaped Jackson’s grip and reached up to tear at her wires with her bare hand, struggling to open her mouth wide enough for a full breath, she hoped that she wouldn’t succeed. She hoped that the darkness she could see beginning to creep into the edges of her vison would win instead. She hoped for the momentary relief from this mental torture that unconsciousness would bring. 

She felt it when Jackson gave up on trying to gain control of her flailing limbs; the warm pressure of his touch left her skin abruptly and she shivered in its absence. But just as her body began to go limp and she felt herself finally slipping away, he was suddenly back at her side again. One broad palm grabbed her chin firmly, holding her head still, and then something cool and pointed forced its way past her bleeding lips. 

“Stay still, Meredith.” She heard Jackson bark at her when she struggled against the unexpected contact. His usually calm voice sounded rough with concentration. “I’m opening you up. I’m going to get you some air, ok?” 

“Damn it, Meredith, please.” He begged through gritted teeth when she flinched at the painful pressure of the pliers and he accidentally cut the shredded skin inside her mouth instead of the restrictive metal wires. “I’m trying to help you. Just stay still for me.” 

Meredith’s body was trembling uncontrollably now from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, and it was hard to focus on anything other than holding back her suddenly overwhelming urge to vomit. But distantly, she understood that her friend was trying to help her, so she did her best to cooperate with his request. 

Once he was finished, she didn’t wait for permission to open her jaw. As soon as she felt the metal nose of the pliers retreat from her mouth and Jackson removed his hand from her chin, she pushed herself slightly more upright in her chair and opened her mouth as wide as she could. Ignoring a sudden flash of pain in her still healing joint at the demanding movement, she dragged breath after greedy breath of hospital air into her burning lungs until she felt light-headed from too much oxygen. 

Jackson gave her a few moments of respectful space to collect herself. Then once her breathing began to return to a more normal rhythm, he leaned a little closer to ask quietly, “Any better?” But Meredith’s only answer was to reach out and grab a desperate handful of his white coat, holding him in place with her trembling grip. 

Jackson’s worry had increased the more upset he had watched her become, and now that she was finally calmer, all he wanted to do was disinfect the new lacerations on her face and check to make sure that she hadn’t re-opened any of her healing sutures. But the devastation he saw in her gaze when her bloodshot eyes met his changed his mind. Mer didn’t need more doctors right now, he told himself, feeling compassion flood his chest. She just needed a friend. So he murmured gently, “Come here.” And rather than clinically wrapping his fingers around Meredith’s wrist to take her pulse, he wrapped his arms around her slight frame instead, pulling her into a warm hug.

She felt stiff against his chest at first, and for a split-second Jackson worried that he had made a mistake. After all, he thought with sudden alarm, he wasn’t Karev. His friendship with Meredith wasn’t usually this intimate. But after a moment, she sagged wearily against him. And when she buried her face in his scrub top and began to sob, staining the navy fabric with streaks of snot and blood, he sighed and rubbed her back gently, relieved that he had made the right decision after all.   
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
Downstairs in the crowded cafeteria, it was nearly an hour before Alex was able to nod at Arizona and slip away from the children without causing a fresh outpouring of tears; and every moment he had to wait seemed longer than the last. He had never been a sprinter, but when he finally headed back toward Mer's room, it took a conscious effort to keep from channeling his emotions into inappropriate speed for the second time in one day. He had texted Jackson to ask for an update several times already, but he wasn't answering his phone or his pager. So when Alex reached the door of Mer's room, he paused with his hand resting anxiously on the doorknob, unsure of what he would find waiting for him on the other side. 

It was much darker inside the room than it had been beneath the fluorescent lights of the hallway, and once he shut the door behind himself, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. But he heard Meredith's quiet sobs even before he could see her shoulders shaking, or their friend’s arms wrapped protectively around her. 

Jackson glanced up as Alex walked slowly toward the chair by the window, and greeted him with a weary, "Hey." But Alex’s only response was a wordless nod of acknowledgement. He was immensely grateful for Avery's kindness, but he would have to thank his friend later. Now, all of his attention was reserved for the woman in front of him. 

"Mer," he whispered the nickname gently, stretching out one hand to tenderly smooth her tousled hair. But Meredith didn't lift her face from Jackson’s chest at the sound of his voice like he had expected, and she made no move to release the desperate fistful she was clutching of the younger man’s lab coat either. 

"I'm sorry it took me so long, but I'm here now." Alex whispered softly, sinking down to crouch beside her. He didn’t care that Jackson was quietly listening to their intimate interaction. His arms ached to be the ones cradling Meredith, but when he murmured, "Come on, Mer." and reached out to pull her gently into an embrace, she stiffened under his hands and clung even more tenaciously to Jackson. 

The unexpected rejection both confused and hurt Alex; but as he rocked back on his heels and looked to Jackson for an explanation, he did his best to conceal his emotions. 

"What happened?" He asked gruffly, his voice sounding too high to his own ears and his Adam's Apple bobbing violently despite his best efforts. He was sure that Jackson noticed his distress, but he acted like he didn’t, and Alex felt a fresh surge of gratitude for the small kindness. 

"You were right; when I came in she was having a panic attack." Jackson answered quietly. "Alex, it was bad. She couldn't breathe… I had no choice but to open up her jaw." He finished apologetically. Alex felt his own jaw clench then, his teeth grinding violently together as Jackson’s words conjured to his mind an unwelcome image of Meredith after her overdose- pale as a corpse and barely breathing. The memory of that day threatened to pull him down into a painful spiral, and he couldn’t afford to give into it. So with effort, he forced himself to focus instead on the medical ramifications of what Jackson had done. 

"How far will cutting the wires set back her recovery?" He asked grimly. But Jackson had no satisfying answer for him. 

"I don't know." He answered, his voice carrying a hint of frustration that suggested he had already tried to reach that conclusion himself and failed. "She won't let me examine her." 

Scrubbing a weary hand slowly down his face, Alex grunted in understanding and turned from Jackson to stare at Meredith in silent consideration once more.   
Her face was still mostly eclipsed from his view by the tumbled waterfall of her hair and the loose fabric of Jackson’s lab coat; but he could see deep new cuts etched into the fragile skin of the one pale cheek, and there was drying blood under the fingernails of her uninjured hand. It was easy to put the information together and guess what had happened, and Alex quickly looked away, not wanting to add another agonizing image to the ones that already lived in his mind. 

He had seen Meredith beginning to unravel when Zola had stubbornly refused to go to her, but now he realized that the extent of her distress had been even worse than he’d imagined. She’d had a few panic attacks over the years, but she had never injured herself before, Alex thought grimly. He realized that he agreed with Jackson: Meredith needed to be examined, one way or another. And if he couldn't get her to calm down enough to consent to an assessment willingly, then...

"We may have to sedate her." He said reluctantly.   
The harsh suggestion left a bad taste in his mouth as soon as he had said it, but if life had taught him anything, it was that sometimes you can’t escape the hard choices. So he explained, "I don't want to, but if it's the only way..." 

"Then we have no choice." Jackson finished quietly for him when he trailed off into heavy silence. "I know. It’s been an hour already.” 

“Ok.” Alex choked the word out past the lump in his throat and swiped a hasty hand over his eyes to clear the tears suddenly clouding his vision. Then he leaned forward and tried to reason with Meredith one last time. "Honey, come on." He pleaded softly, his lips hovering so close to her ear that his hot breath ruffled her hair. "Let me help you."   
But Meredith once again refused to speak to him or even acknowledge his presence. So with a heavy sigh, he pushed himself slowly back up onto his feet. 

"I'll go get the diazepam." He said in defeat. 

Meredith heard in Alex's voice the pain that his decision to sedate her was causing him, but she ignored the guilty feeling in her stomach and told herself stubbornly that she didn't care. She wanted him to hurt. 

When she had first felt the comforting pressure of his hand brush her bowed head, she had wanted to turn and melt into his arms and cry until she had no tears left. If she was honest, she still wanted to. But she found that even though she longed for the comfort he was offering; she couldn’t bring herself to accept it. She hadn’t missed the love that had shined in Zola's eyes as she looked up at Alex; she had noticed the way her little girl had clung to his arm while refusing to come to her own mother. And though she knew it was childish and unfair, Meredith resented Alex for it. She knew he had rearranged his entire life these past 6 weeks so that her kids would have a measure of stability, and she knew she should feel grateful, but she didn’t. She felt jealous. 

So when the needle pinched her arm, she didn’t fight it; she let the tranquilizing drugs flow coldly into her veins, glad when the world around her grew blurry. The gaping hole that this day had ripped into her heart was still there- she could feel it throbbing when familiar arms lifted her limp body from the chair and carried her gently back to bed- but at least for now, she couldn’t remember anymore what had caused the pain.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………  
Once the calming drugs had done their job, and Mer’s fingers had slowly loosened their grip on Jackson’s coat, Alex bent down and carefully gathered her into his arms.   
“If you wait a second, I can help.” He heard Jackson offer from behind him, grunting as he stood upright again on legs that had undoubtedly fallen asleep long ago. But Alex didn’t want any help. In her semi-conscious haze, Meredith seemed to have forgotten whatever he had done to offend her earlier. When he lifted her out of the armchair, she curled into him with a breathy sigh instead of pushing him away; and the short walk across the room to the bed was over long before he was ready to let her go.   
“Thanks,” He answered quietly. “But I’ve got her.”   
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Alex stayed close to Meredith for the rest of the day; helping to thoroughly check her unconscious body for new injuries and watching as Jackson re- wired her broken jaw, then waiting patiently by her bedside until the artificial sedation gave way to natural slumber.   
The sun had sunk far below the horizon before he felt satisfied that Mer was out for the night and it was safe to leave his sentry. But eventually the hospital began to feel stifling again, and he left in search of fresh air. 

Alex ambled slowly through the maze of hallways for a while, not bothering to keep track of his surroundings, until eventually he found himself standing in the middle of the deserted parking lot. It was starting to drizzle, but the water falling against his face felt refreshing. So he stood there in the rain until his wet clothing clung to his skin, relishing the clarity that the cold returned to his jumbled thoughts. 

Mer was shutting him out, he thought darkly; he didn’t know why exactly, but he could guess. The look of betrayal that she had sent him when he had sided with Arizona over her still stung, and even though he knew it had been the right choice, Alex felt his stomach churn with guilt for a millionth time.  
Whatever her reasons, her decision to reject him hurt deeply; he could feel it threatening to trigger again decades of dormant trauma. But he breathed deeply and reminded himself that after the events of the afternoon, Mer was in much more pain than he was. So if she needed someone to blame in order to get through this, then he would willingly play that role that for her. 

She did need to confide in someone though, he thought, even if it couldn’t be him. If she kept all this grief inside again, he worried that this time she might slip so far away from him that he wouldn’t be able to bring her back.   
So, with a heavy sigh, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and ended his day in almost the same way that he had begun it: by listening to Cristina's familiar voice come crackling across the continents. 

"Alex." 

Even though it must have been nearly 3 in the morning in Switzerland, Cristina picked up the phone on the first ring. And he could tell from the way she said his name that she already knew why he was calling her again. Somehow, she had guessed that this time he had no cheerful update to relay. This time all he had were three somber words:

“She needs you." Alex said simply. He had no energy left for long conversations, and no wish to relive the still- raw events of the day. So he offered no explanation for his words, and he was grateful that Cristina didn’t ask for what he could not give. 

He heard her inhale sharply, absorbing the unspoken implications behind this late- night phone call. But when she spoke again it was only to say determinedly, "Ok. Then I’ll see you tomorrow night." 

“See you tomorrow,” he echoed wearily. 

Then Cristina hung up without saying goodbye, and Alex slid his phone back into the pocket of his damp jeans; but he didn't immediately go back inside the hospital. He stood outside in the wind and the rain for a few minutes longer- watching his breath turn to drifting white vapor in the soft glow of the streetlight and feeling a little bit lighter than he had before.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26  
Meredith woke the next morning to the low murmur of the 6 am shift change in a singularly horrible mood. Her head pounded painfully, and when she foolishly tried to sit up anyway, the change in position made the throbbing even worse. Unable to bite back a moan of misery, she gingerly massaged her aching temples with her one good hand and tried to remember what could have happened yesterday to cause this kind of headache. It felt like she was hungover, she thought in confusion; like a déjà vu of one of the vengeful mornings that always followed late nights at Joe’s. Except, it had been months since she’d had a drink.   
Her mouth felt unpleasantly dry and fuzzy, so Meredith gingerly turned to reach for a glass of water sitting on her bedside table. But as soon as she did, she realized that the room had begun slowly spinning around her, and that her hand was shaking too much to hold the cup steady. Then she was suddenly wide awake, any remaining haze of sleep chased away by the fear that something might be very wrong.   
Concentrating hard, she replayed the events of the day before in her mind, searching for some logical explanation of her worrying symptoms. The crushing disappointment of her children’s rejection was captured in her memory with cruel clarity, but everything after Alex and Robbins had herded them out of her room was strangely vague.   
It took a few moments of focused effort before she could remember the panic; but once she did, she gagged, nauseated by the phantom taste of metallic blood pooling in her mouth. For one paralyzing breath, she could almost feel again the scratchy fabric of Jackson’s scrubs against the soft skin of her cheek, and the pain of the needle in her arm as Alex sent diazepam burning through her veins like liquid fire. Then, overwhelmed by the intensity of emotion that the memories brought rushing back, Meredith let her pounding head fall forward into her hands and wished she could forget again.   
All of her symptoms then- the tremors, the dizziness, the headache- were just side effects of the sedation, she thought numbly. But the realization that she wasn’t experiencing some new medical emergency didn’t bring the relief she had expected it would. Now that she had broken down the mental doors to face her harsh new reality, her guilt wouldn’t allow her to concentrate on anything else.   
Try as she might to distract herself, Meredith couldn’t escape the memory of her terrified children struggling to get away from her- repulsed by their own mother. The image of their pale, wide-eyed faces seemed seared into her consciousness- haunting her whether her own eyes were open or shut.   
Last night, the raw force of her guilt and grief had been enough to split her wide open. But today, though her eyes were still gritty and sore from the hours she had spent sobbing the night before, no painful lump rose in her throat and no fresh, scalding tears slipped down her cheeks.   
Instead, Meredith felt strangely empty and distant from her pain. She was just too exhausted to mourn anymore for what should have been- not even when she tried to draw a steadying breath and found her teeth were securely locked into their metal prison again. Jackson must have re-wired her jaw while she was unconscious, she thought dully; and judging by the new pain in her TMJ joints, he had made the wiring even tighter than it had been before.   
With a sinking sense of hopelessness, Meredith understood that her brief gasp of freedom had likely set back the timeline of her recovery, dooming her to suffer the restrictive headgear for even longer than she had hoped would be necessary. Still, she couldn’t muster any sadness at the injustice of her situation. The only emotion that seemed able to push through her the strange numbness in her chest was rapidly growing anger.   
Suddenly she was no longer just annoyed by the itch in her leg cast that she could never reach, or just frustrated with the unyielding metal imprisoning her mouth, or merely tired of the constant physical pain that filled her endless days- she was infuriated with it all. Her fury burned sudden and reckless, and Meredith let it sweep her away on its fiery tide.   
Suddenly she found herself angry all over again at every wrong she had endured over the years, real or perceived. She was angry with her mother for failing her, and with Derek for abandoning her, and with Alex for being the one whom her children chose to cling to instead of her. She was incensed with Amelia for not responding to her page, and with Lou’s damn seizure for trapping her inside this broken body in the first place. She was livid with everything and everyone around her; and most of all, Meredith was angry with herself.   
This was all her fault, she thought bitterly. Somehow, she had failed and become exactly who she had sworn never to be. But that knowledge was too heavy to face in her fragile emotional state; even just the fleeting thought threatened to crush her beneath its weight. So, in self-preservation, she clung desperately to the strength of her anger. She knew it wasn’t fair to project her emotions onto her friends who didn’t deserve it, onto Alex- but she had no choice. If she was going to make it through this day without slipping so far back into the dark and twisty place that still lurked in the recesses of her mind that she would never be able claw her way out again, she needed someone to blame. 

So that was how Stephanie, Maggie, and Alex found her when they entered the room a few moments later: wearing irrational anger like it was armor and scowling viciously at the wall across from her bed.  
“Morning, Dr. Grey.” Edwards greeted Meredith cheerfully, holding out a purple smoothie that said ‘Jamba Juice’ on the side of the cup. “I brought you something to eat! Or, I guess, drink.”   
Meredith turned to stare at the offered beverage in distaste. Usually, she would have been thrilled at the prospect of breakfast that wasn’t just junk from the hospital cafeteria or more of Maggie’s homemade food-as-medicine. But today, Stephanie’s happiness grated irritatingly, far too bright for her dark mood, and her stomach was too twisted with guilt to allow her to swallow anything.   
“Mmmph.” She grumbled through her wires, throwing her arm up to motion the smoothie violently away. “Mmm- mm.”   
I don’t want it!  
“I know, I’m sorry.” Stephanie said, but despite her compassionate words, there was no sympathy in her tone. Coldly dismissing her patient’s wishes, she continued trying to shove the freezing drink into Meredith’s closed hand.   
This made Meredith’s temper flare even hotter. As the intern continued to invade her personal space, she felt all of her muscles tense, ready to take the lid off of the offending cup and launch its sticky, purple contents right into Edward’s bright and shiny face. But before she could act on her urge, Maggie walked through the open door.   
“Good morning.” Her sister chirped as she approached the bed. Maggie nudged Stephanie kindly aside to take her place, not realizing what she had spared the girl by her timely interruption. But, ignoring her sister’s abrasively cheerful words, Meredith’s eyes followed Edwards across the room with a glare as sharp as her scalpel.   
Why could no one take a hint today? She wondered, still pointedly ignoring Maggie’s presence. News travelled fast at Grey/Sloan. Everyone had known that her kids were coming to see her, and by now she was certain that the whole hospital would also have already heard about how spectacularly wrong that plan had gone. So why were they still wishing her good morning?   
Meredith’s frustration was slowly climbing to dangerous levels, but by closing her eyes and counting slowly backward from 10, just like she had used to do when one of her kids was disobeying her, she managed to maintain her calm. Until the sound of familiar footsteps entering her room made her eyes fly open and her gaze dart to the door.   
It was Alex. She stared accusingly as he walked cautiously across the room to stand beside Maggie. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all since she had last seen him, Meredith thought. And he raised his bloodshot eyes to meet hers, she felt unbidden concern begin to soften her heart despite herself.   
But when Alex offered her a gentle smile that didn’t reach his eyes, the spell he could always cast over her was broken, and all of her anger came rushing back with a vengeance. Because this was the same soft look of apology he had given her when he had helped Arizona take her kids away. She didn’t want his sympathy, Meredith thought resentfully. She didn’t want to look at him standing there and caring.   
So, impulsively, she grabbed a pitcher of ice cubes that Maggie must have brought in for her and threw one cold handful straight at Alex’s face. She was still weak, and her aim was terrible- most of the ice fell on the floor and skidded over to Maggie’s feet- but by the strength of sheer fury, one cube hit Alex square in the center of his muscular chest. Maggie shrieked at the unprovoked attack and Alex jumped in surprise, staring down at the small wet patch the frozen missile had left on his shirt, and Meredith felt a warm flash of petty satisfaction in her chest.  
“Come on, Mer.” Alex sighed tiredly, holding his hand out for the pitcher. “Stop it.”  
But it felt good to channel her rage into action, and though Alex didn’t let it show on his face, Meredith knew him well enough to tell that he was annoyed. So she didn’t stop. Stubbornly, she kept throwing handfuls of ice across the room until her pitcher was empty; and then, without thinking, she threw that too.   
Meredith watched, eyes wide with immediate regret, as the plastic vessel sailed through the air on a collision course with Maggie’s forehead. But just before it could hit its mark, Alex lunged quickly in front of Maggie and caught it the pitcher like it was a softball. Then, as Meredith stifled a sigh of relief, he returned it to the nightstand with a very pointed thump.  
Meredith distantly heard Maggie scolding her as she tried awkwardly to crouch down in her high heeled shoes and pick up some of the melting ice, but she couldn’t concentrate on the words. Alex was watching her from only inches away, his gaze so intent that it felt like he was trying to see into her soul; and for a moment, Meredith found herself too caught up in his intoxicating closeness to think of anything else.   
“How’s the pain today?” He finally murmured softly, keeping his voice low and kind even as the tell-tale twitch in the muscles of his jaw betrayed his irritation.   
For a brief second, his deep brown eyes and genuine concern made Meredith waver. This relentless headache was really beginning to bother her, and she desperately wanted to ask for some pain reliever. But the hopeful way that Alex was watching, obviously expecting her to give in and let him help like she always had before, rubbed her pride the wrong way.   
He couldn’t just make a few jokes and fix things this time, she thought, as fresh hurt took her breath away. Not after how he had betrayed her. So instead of answering, she slammed her open palm down hard on the table between them and watched in dark satisfaction as the hope in his eyes flickered and died.   
With a weary sigh, Alex bowed his head. He recognized the resolute set to Meredith’s narrow shoulders; she had clearly made up her mind not to cooperate. He knew from experience that any further attempts to talk to her now would be both a waste of time and possibly dangerous, but he had to try anyway- it was both his job as a doctor and his duty as a friend.   
So, lifting his head in renewed determination, he retreated a few paces back from the bed and crossed his arms over his chest as protection in case she threw anything else at him. Then he asked calmly,   
“And the discomfort?”   
But his persistence only annoyed Meredith even more. Once again, her only answer was to slam her hand down on the table, this time so hard that she failed to hide a wince of pain.   
“Well, her energy’s up.” Maggie murmured dryly to him in an aside, as if Mer’s obvious emotional distress was something to laugh about. It was very unlike Maggie to be so insensitive, and at first Alex thought he must have heard wrong. But as he turned to stare at the cardio surgeon in disbelief, he heard Edwards-whom he had forgotten was even there- snort in amusement from her spot in the corner, and protective fury rose in his chest.   
“This isn’t funny, Pierce.” He hissed reproachfully at Maggie, enraged by the glistening tears he could see silently filling Meredith’s eyes.   
“Mer-” He began softly, turning his back on the other women and taking a step toward the bed. But before he had a chance to say anything else, the Chief came bustling suddenly in through the open door.   
Meredith watched Miranda cross the floor to her bed with dread. Her head hurt and her stomach was churning, and Maggie’s thoughtless comment had brought stinging tears to her eyes that she was struggling to keep back. In that moment, she didn’t want companionship, or updates on her condition, or whatever else her boss might be there to offer her. All that she wanted was just for everyone to just leave her alone before she couldn’t hold herself together anymore.   
So when Bailey reached her bedside, somehow failing to notice the tension in the room, and announced hurriedly, “All right, I’m running late. I have only 5 minutes to update you on the miracle-” Meredith didn’t let her finish. In desperation, she reached out and shoved the little table by her bed toward The Chief of Surgery with all of her remaining strength.   
It flew across the floor, wooden legs scraping the tile with a high-pitched screech that made everyone wince, until Miranda caught it just before one sharp corner drove painfully into her stomach.   
For a moment she stood there silently, staring at Meredith like a mother stunned by her child’s unexpected naughtiness. Then, disapproving eyebrows arched so high on her forehead that they nearly disappeared into her hairline, she murmured in shocked disbelief, “Well, I was going to tell you about the miracles I have been working on your service. But it seems like it might be a bad time.”   
Meredith could feel her mentor’s reproving gaze burning into her skin, and she knew she deserved it. But rather than turning to meet Bailey’s wide eyes, she kept her gaze fixed steadily on the wall that she had been staring at all morning and hoped that if she didn’t blink, maybe the tears blurring her vision wouldn’t fall.   
After a long moment passed and Meredith still hadn’t moved, Bailey sighed in disappointed acceptance.   
“Ok then.” She said, carefully returning the little table to its place. “I will check in and update you later.” Then, sharing a wordless glance of concern with Alex as she left, she straightened her white coat and walked slowly down the hall.   
Alex returned his boss’s glance with a solemn nod. He knew that Bailey had noticed the pain Meredith was choosing to disguise as anger. She loved Meredith too, and just like him, she was worried. Frustrated, Alex turned back to study Mer, who was still glaring impassively at the wall. He wished that she would let him in; all he wanted was the chance to be there for her. But Mer didn’t want his comfort- she had made that much clear. So he decided to give her the one thing he knew that she did want- privacy.  
“Actually,” He murmured softly, reaching out to guide an unresisting Maggie firmly toward the door. “Why don’t we all check in later?”   
To her credit, Maggie quickly understood the intent behind his suggestion. And when she followed Bailey toward the elevators with just a soft, “Feel better, Mer”, Alex felt himself start to forgive her for her inappropriate comment.  
But Stephanie stayed behind long enough to apprehensively place the now-melted smoothie she was still clutching on Meredith’s nightstand.   
“I’m just going to…” She whispered timidly. “…leave this here.”   
Then with an air of obvious relief, she scurried quickly out of the room, finally leaving Alex alone with Meredith.   
For a few minutes he stayed where he was, foolishly hoping that she might change her mind and ask him to stay. But Meredith ignored him entirely, the iciness in her body language clearly dismissing him along with everyone else.  
So when the tears that had been shining in her eyes for the past 5 minutes finally spilled silently down her pale cheeks, he fought his instinct to go to her and gently wipe them away. He knew that she must be experiencing side effects from the diazepam, even if she had refused to admit it, so though it was far less than he wanted to do for her, Alex settled for calling softly from the respectful distance of the doorway,   
“I’ll send some Tylenol in for your headache, Mer.”  
Then he forced himself to turn and walk away from her room without looking back, leaving the woman that he he loved alone against his will for the second time in 24 hrs. 

Until she heard Alex’s defeated footsteps slowly fade into the background noise of the hospital, Meredith held her body stiff and unmoving. Only after she was sure she was alone, did she let herself turn to stare at the doorway where he had been standing a moment before.   
Several times in the past few minutes, he had been close enough for her to reach out and touch him, and in spite of her anger, she was weak- it had taken every ounce of self-control she had to resist doing just that. She had no doubt that Alex would have stayed if she had asked him to, but after her shameful outburst, he would probably rather be anywhere else than in a small room with her. So, embarrassed, she had bit her lip and let him leave. She would have to face the consequences of her actions eventually, she knew; but not today. Today she was still too fragile to bear the rejection of yet another person that she loved.   
Sighing shakily, Meredith leaned back against her pillows and closed her eyes, swiping impatiently at the tears that had betrayed her. Her pulse still pounded rhythmically in her temples, and when the pain drew another stifled groan from her lips, she found herself humbly grateful that Alex knew her well enough to notice the headache that she had been too proud to mention.  
She stayed that way for so long, waiting for her breathing to slow down and for the tightness in her chest to release, that she almost slipped into an exhausted sleep without meaning to. But just as the world around her was beginning to grow cloudy, the sound of a familiar voice jerked Meredith roughly back into wakefulness.   
Amelia. She thought in surprise, as her eyes flew quickly open. Painstakingly pushing herself up onto her elbow for a better view, she craned her neck to see into the hallway. And what she saw through the window confirmed that she hadn’t been dreaming. It was Amelia’s voice she had heard. She could see her leaning against the nurse’s station outside her open door, chatting with a nurse that she didn’t know.   
For a moment, Meredith froze, unsure of how to feel. There was Derek’s sister, whom she hadn’t seen in weeks, standing less than 30 feet away from her bed and yet not even glancing her way.   
Unbelievable, she thought to herself, feeling a sharp stab of pain lance through her chest. She had always found Amelia self- involved, but this was a whole new level of selfishness. The longer she watched her sister-in-law seemingly ignoring her, the hotter her cheeks grew. Then slowly, the calm that she had spent so long regaining evaporated, leaving her flushed and angry all over again.   
Meredith knew that engaging Amelia in her current unstable mood could only end badly, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her arm seemed to move of its own accord, and in less than a second, the loud noise of her open palm connecting once again with the book on her nightstand was echoing through the hallway like a thunderclap.   
It startled Amelia, who jumped and finally looked her way. For a tense moment, their eyes met- Amelia’s full of guilt and Meredith’s flashing with indignation. But the younger woman still didn’t move. So with a scowl, Meredith threw her stinging hand forcibly up in the air in the universal gesture that meant ‘What the Hell?’   
Amelia understood the harsh motion, Meredith could see it in the way that her face fell and her shoulders slumped in shame.   
Good. She thought, hurt making her callous. She should be ashamed.   
After a few seconds of frozen indecision, she pushed herself off of the nurses’ station and Meredith thought she had finally gotten her way. But instead of walking through her open door and over to her bed, she strode quickly past her room, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.   
Meredith watched her go in disbelief. It wasn’t fair, she seethed to herself. Amelia got to run away, but she was trapped in this hospital bed, still unable to put any weight on her casted leg without support. Huffing in frustration, she glanced quickly around the room for something that she could use to get her sister’s attention… and found the unwanted smoothie from that morning still sitting on the table near her bed.   
Impulsively, she grabbed it. Then, stretching her arm back as far behind her head as her limited flexibility would allow, she launched the full cup through the door of her room. She couldn’t see how far her missile had flown, but a few seconds later, she could hear it crash to the ground with a very satisfying “Splat!”   
At the sound, all the background chatter that had been swirling around her immediately faded to shocked silence; hopefully because the staff were now all admiring her melty, purple redecorating of the walls of their workplace.   
Meredith panted, ignoring the new painful ache in her shoulder and listening intently for footsteps. And when an obviously embarrassed Amelia came stalking back through the door of her room, carrying the cracked and empty cup, she swallowed a thrill of triumph. Her aim had been accurate after all.   
“Yeah, ok.” Amelia snapped as she threw the ruined drink forcefully into a small garbage can in the corner. “You don’t want to look at me, I get it.”   
She paused then, seemingly waiting for Meredith to agree with her statement. But the only answer she received was a steely glare.   
Embarrassment turning to frustration, Amelia shoved both hands roughly down into the pockets of her jeans and chuckled mirthlessly.   
“Come on, Meredith.” She pleaded. “Do you seriously think I want to be hanging around outside your door like- like some pathetic little rat looking for scraps? Do you think that feels good for me?”   
“I have been out there,” She continued hopelessly, gesturing to the hallway and blinking back sudden tears. “Trying to figure out how to make amends… As if that would even matter to you.”   
Meredith studied the woman in front of her silently, ignoring the tears that she could feel springing again to her own eyes, triggered by Amelia’s emotion. When she hadn’t come to visit in all of these weeks, Meredith had thought that she must not care. She had thought that, once again, the youngest Shepherd was only concerned with her own pain. But now as she absorbed the pain and guilt behind Amelia’s heated words, she was beginning to realize she had been wrong.   
Sudden movement in the hallway drew her attention then, interrupting their conversation- it was a hospital Janitor beginning to mop up the sticky mess she had made in the hallway. He glared resentfully at Meredith when he caught her staring, and at the reminder that the whole floor could likely hear her shouting, Amelia quickly closed the heavy wooden door.  
“I know I’m a mess,” She whispered shakily as she crossed back over to the bed. I know I talk too much, and feel too much, and I know that it drives you crazy.”   
“But,” She explained, lifting her chin to stare defiantly back at Meredith through her tears. “That is the one way that I know how to stay sober. Every time I try to suck it up, and shut up and just be cold and normal like you… I end up drunk- or on pills- or at a funeral.”   
Meredith exhaled heavily, feeling uncomfortable guilt blossom in her chest. But Amelia wasn’t finished yet.   
“Do you know what it felt like to walk into that trauma room and see you on that table and think to myself, ‘Great, I did it again. Here comes another funeral’?” She demanded brokenly.  
Meredith stared mutely back at her sister’s tear- stained face, feeling like her heart was being torn in two. Amelia obviously blamed herself for the attack, and Meredith knew that she was waiting to hear her say something like, “I forgive you, Amelia.” Or, “Amelia, this was not your fault.”   
But the harsh truth was that fair or not, Meredith did blame her. She blamed Amelia for not being there for her when she had needed her; for abandoning her, just like Derek had done. Only she couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud. She was afraid that if she tried, she would only end up screaming, or crying, or throwing things again. So she tore her gaze away from the desperation in Amelia’s dreamy blue eyes, so hauntingly similar to his, and ran a trembling hand down her flushed face. But in the end, the attempt at restraint didn’t matter.   
She saw the agonized realization on Amelia’s face and knew that her silence had spoken for her.  
“You know what?” Amelia scoffed quietly, her voice heavy with bitter finality. “Forget it. I don’t even know why I came in here.”   
She left far more eagerly than she had come, letting the door slam so violently behind her that the banal hospital décor hanging on the walls of the room shook dangerously. Meredith listened to the pounding of her high heeled boots reverberating hollowly through in the distance until her damaged ears could no longer make out the angry cadence. Then she pressed a pillow against her face to muffle the sound… and she screamed. 

After that painfully public encounter, the only staff who dared to approach Meredith for the rest of the day were the hospital food service workers. They timidly brought her meals and snacks that she left sitting untouched on her tray; she had no appetite anymore. All that she wanted was for this miserable day to end. 

The afternoon passed by painfully slowly, but eventually the sun began to sink, and with a sigh of relief, she realized that she had made it to the evening shift change. 

By 9 pm, the night shift nurses had dimmed the lights on her floor, so Meredith laid there in the dark, waiting for sleep and finding a strange measure of comfort in the familiar noises of the hospital. Until for the second time that day, her peace was disturbed by a voice that she hadn’t heard in a very long time. 

"Hey, Mer."

Not trusting her own ears, Meredith rolled slowly over in bed to stare at the slender figure silhouetted in the doorway of her room. And to her confusion, her eyes only confirmed what she had thought she’d heard. Somehow, impossibly, Cristina Yang was no longer in Switzerland. She was standing on the threshold of her room.

For one hopeful second, Meredith felt her heart leap in surprise and gratitude. Her happiness lasted only for the space of one breath however; then with the very next, she wrestled her emotions firmly back down to earth again. 

No, she told herself firmly. No, I can’t do this again.

Impossible visitors had shown up at her bedside before. Derek, and Lexie, and George had looked and sounded as real as Cristina did now; but they had been only hallucinations and once the drugs in her system had worn off, they had disappeared and broken her heart all over again. 

Someone must have finally gotten fed up with her volatile behavior and sedated her again, she thought wearily. It was the only explanation that made any sense.  
As far as she knew, Cristina hadn’t been able to get on a plane since the accident that had killed Lexie and Mark. So Meredith dried the tears of longing trickling down her face with one trembling hand and reluctantly decided that the Cristina in front of her wasn’t her best friend at all- just another drug- induced hallucination. Then, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and rolled slowly back to face the wall again. She’d had enough heartbreak for one day. 

But whatever she was on must have been strong because this delusion was persistent. Rather than retreating into the recesses of her consciousness, Cristina only sighed and walked slowly nearer. Meredith knew it wasn’t possible, but nonetheless she thought she heard the muffled thud of heavy bags being dropped onto the chair near the door. She even imagined that she could feel the mattress dip with Cristina’s slight weight as her friend sank carefully down beside her. 

"Mer, come on." Cristina coaxed softly. "I travelled 18 hours to get here, I haven't slept in 24, and you're not even gonna look at me?"

No, Meredith answered the ghost bitterly in her mind, feeling her shoulders begin to shake as her tears fell faster. Because you're not really here. Still, try as she might to control her emotions, she had never wanted to be wrong as badly as she did at that moment.

From his vantage point in the hallway- where he could see Mer, but she couldn't see him- Alex was watching silently. He had chased a sleepless night with a rough day, and a real bed was beginning to sound very enticing, but he knew that going home would be useless. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he was certain that Meredith would be all right. 

After the new intimacy that they had shared recently, it felt especially frustrating and hurtful to be standing outside of Mer’s room now, banished once again to the same impersonal distance as everyone else in the hospital. But when Alex felt his pulse begin to quicken for the millionth time that day, he exhaled slowly and reminded himself one more time of what he knew to be true- lashing out was just how Meredith Grey handled the grief she wasn’t ready to face. 

He understood that because he did the same thing. So he had always been willing to volunteer as her punching bag when she needed to hurt someone like she was hurting- someone she knew wouldn’t leave. didn’t mind serving as her punching bag when she needed someone to hurt like she was hurting- someone she knew wouldn’t leave. He hadn’t really even minded serving as target practice for her this morning- if the tables were turned (and they had been many times before) he knew she would do the same for him. 

But there was something about this time that felt different in a way that frightened him. This time, he was the source of Meredith’s anger instead of just its target…and it was killing him. He had only managed to make it through this interminable day by counting down the hours until it was time to drive to SeaTac. 

But as he turned his gaze back to the window in time to watch Meredith turn stubbornly away from the one person in this world who might know her even better than he did, Alex felt his stomach plummet down through the floor beneath his aching feet. He had never considered the possibility that she would push Cristina away too. Arms crossed tensely across his chest to contain his pounding heart, he closed his eyes and breathed a silent prayer to the universe to cut them some slack. Because if this didn't work, he didn't know what else to do. 

When after a long moment, he opened his eyes again, Cristina was staring back at him through the window of Mer's room. He could see his own confusion and worry reflected in her expression, telling him that she hadn’t expected such an icy reception either. But she was their last hope, so he dipped his chin at her in a tired nod- all the encouragement he could muster- and mouthed sternly,

‘Try again’.

Of course, she would try again, Cristina huffed crankily, turning her back on the window. She hadn’t spent 18 hours high on Xanax, battling the demons of her past only to be intimidated by a little bit of silent treatment. But Alex had been no help, so while she wracked her fuzzy brain for a way to convince Meredith to acknowledge her, she took the opportunity to assess her friend’s condition in person for the first time.

Alex had told her that Mer had been making significant strides in her recovery, and alone in her office halfway across the world, she had been eager to believe him. But now that Cristina was seeing them from mere inches away instead of through a pixelated iPad screen, the reality of Meredith’s injuries took her breath away. 

Evil Spawn must have been lying to her about Mer gaining weight to make her feel better, she thought skeptically, because she couldn't imagine it was possible for her person to have ever been any smaller than she was now. Her usually petite frame looked more like skin and bones than Cristina had ever seen it before- even in those dark days after Derek had died. 

She was concerned by Mer’s leg and arm too, although no longer in traction, they were still useless in their bulky casts. And they still hurt, Cristina thought in concern; she hadn't missed the pinched expression on Meredith's pale face when she had shifted her position in bed. 

But it was the fading patchwork of bruises encircling her friend's slender neck that sliced into Cristina’s heart the deepest. Meredith's smooth, clear skin was now marred by garish handprints of competing yellows and greens and browns. They were ugly hues that she knew meant healing, yet the only color she could see as she stared at them was a hot, angry red. 

Breathing raggedly, Cristina worked to calm herself, forcing her fingers to unclench from the fist she hadn't realized her hand had made. And as she waited for her sudden rage to subside, she silently thanked a God that she didn’t believe in that Lou had already been discharged. Regardless of the oath she had taken to do no harm, she didn't trust herself to be under the same roof as the man who had done this to her best friend.

She coughed quietly, trying to clear the lump of emotion that was painfully constricting her throat. Then, reaching out to smooth a tentative palm over the blonde hair tangled on the pillow between them, she tried again to be acknowledged.

"Mer, have you been sleeping?" She asked, grateful that her voice came out sounding much lighter than she felt. "Because- no offense- you look like crap." 

She knew that coming from anyone else, her statement could have sounded harsh and out of place for such a serious moment. But Cristina kept her tone gentle and teasing, intentionally echoing a conversation from long ago- one that she was hoping Mer would remember too. 

At first, Meredith only stiffened beside her; but when after a few seconds, she turned slowly over to stare at her with wide, blue eyes, Cristina felt a surge of triumph. Meredith’s face was nearly as pale as the sheets on her bed, and there was a suspicion to her gaze that Cristina didn’t understand. But she held herself steady beneath its searching weight anyway, until eventually, whatever Meredith found in her expression seemed to satisfy her. Her chapped lips suddenly parted and she whispered tentatively, her quiet words spoken like a test to pass or fail:

"I look better than you." 

Cristina smiled because she knew the answer she was expected to give. 

"Not possible." She laughed softly, exactly as she had done what felt like a lifetime ago. And at her familiar response, the wary distance that Meredith had been keeping between them immediately disappeared. 

"Cristina?" Meredith gasped in disbelief, squeezing the hand her friend extended to her so tightly that she was sure it must hurt. 

But Cristina didn’t flinch. "I'm here, Mer." She murmured softly in reply.

Then the fresh tears that welled up in Meredith’s eyes were tears of gratitude instead of sorrow. She wasn't drugged and she wasn't dreaming after all, she thought incredulously. Somehow, miraculously, her person was back. 

With a sob, she surged forward into Cristina's outstretched arms, and let the other woman hold her tightly, whispering quiet reassurances into her bad ear that she couldn't quite make out. There was a fierceness to her grip that uncomfortably squeezed Meredith’s still- healing ribs, but she didn't pull away. She just hid her face even deeper behind the thick curtain of Cristina’s cascading curls, where she knew she was safe from judgement, and let herself fall apart.

Alex watched Meredith finally allow the vicious anger she’d been wearing like armor to melt away, and when she started to sob, he felt like crying tears of relief right along with her. As badly as he ached to be the one that she turned to for comfort, he felt no jealousy at seeing her dissolve into Cristina’s offered arms- only confirmation that he had been right to make that long- distance call. 

Over the years, he had earned the privilege of taking Cristina’s place as Mer’s day-to-day person, but he was secure enough to accept that the twisted sisters would always share a unique bond that even time and distance couldn’t lessen. 

Quietly, he pulled the heavy door to Meredith’s room shut to offer the two women some privacy. And then, scrubbing a tired hand down his face, he turned to walk slowly toward the hospital lobby. 

Mer would talk to Cristina, he thought with comforting certainty. He would be there for her the second she was ready to let him in, no matter how long that took. But tonight, he could fall asleep without worry- confident that he was leaving Meredith in more than capable hands.


End file.
